Big Things in Small Packages
by corvusdraconis
Summary: [HG/SS] AU/Crack: Severus Snape has to deliver the acceptance letter to the Granger home thanks to Minerva being sick with the cat flu. He has no idea how this one event will change his life forever. SSHG/HEA (COMPLETE)
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **[HG/SS] AU/Crack: Severus Snape has to deliver the acceptance letter to the Granger home thanks to Minerva being sick with the cat flu. He has no idea how this one event will change his life forever.

**A/N: **I've been up for over 24 hours (at work) and I am not (yet) officially brain dead.

**Update:** Pretty sure I'm really brain dead. Not quite sure _how _I'm still breathing…

**Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard, and the visiting flyby, dragged in, lured off her knitting podcast, Worrywart

* * *

**Big Things in Small Packages**

_If you're a human being walking the earth, you're weird, you're strange, you're psychologically challenged. _

**Philip Seymour Hoffman**

* * *

When Severus delivered the acceptance letter to the Granger's house due to an ill Minerva guilting him into doing her job for her, he could have skinned her alive.

Truly.

What a crock.

He hated children, and he hated people—

Why on Earth should _he _have to deliver the damned letter instead of—

Well, anyone else.

_ANY_one else.

Any—

A young girl was watching him through wide, soulful eyes. Amber brown, intelligent and filled with fire, they seemed to peer into his very soul.

_Pfffff!_

A young fey dragon zipped around him, her small wings flapping wildly like a hummingbird's, all coloured like a butterfly's wing—

She clung to his neat line of buttons with her tiny claws, _purrrrrrrrrrr_ing so loud that they seemed to vibrate. She looked up at him—

With such absolute trust.

Such— worship, even.

"Well, Hazel, I think our little girl has found her hero," Mr Granger said, chuckling.

Mrs Granger smiled warmly as she passed Snape a glass of iced tea. "I see you've met our Hermione."

Snape stood perfectly still, frozen in place as the young fey dragon warmed his neck and snuggled up against it.

"She's done that ever since she was a wee little bairn," Mr Granger said fondly. "She's never really trusted anyone else quite so quickly though—"

"No one outside of us, really," Hazel Granger said, sipping her tea. "Please, do sit down, Professor Snape."

"You—" Severus began, feeling somewhat awkward to say the least, "ah, accepted her unique gifts so easily?"

"Well, I wouldn't really say so easily at first," Mr Granger explained. "Hazel was quite baffled to find our daughter's crib had a baby dragon in it, but my great grandmother used to say that if you wished for strange things, even stranger things would come to visit you. At first we thought we were hallucinating, of course, until she turned back into our baby girl right before our eyes."

"Easton thought I'd accidentally baked a bit of weed into our Christmas biscuits," Hazel chuckled. "Which I _didn't_, thank you very much."

Mr Granger chortled. "Seeing you here really doesn't surprise us all that much, Professor Snape. We've learned there is far more to the world than we ever gave it credit for, so it was only a matter of time that someone like you would come to our door."

"How very—" Snape said, carefully elongating his words, "pragmatic of you."

"She's really taken quite a shine to you," Hazel observed as Hermione wriggled, having moved herself under Snape's hand to gain belly rubs, her miniature legs pumping with delight as he automatically did so, unable to resist the temptation of the colourful little belly.

"Normally, she finds books far more interesting than people," Mr Granger commented. "Top marks in all of her classes, always. Her remarkable intelligence has seen her often bullied, however—" Hermione's father sighed. "She was too trusting at first, and that has scarred her somewhat. Children are often much more cruel than adults to each other."

Hermione curled up in Snape's lap, draped over it like a feline whose entire job was to commandeer the most impressive real estate to sprawl on.

Severus found himself rubbing under her chin with his fingers, and then upon realising what he was doing, froze, completely and utterly baffled by his own actions.

"She'll fit in, in this Hogwarts, yes?" Hazel asked tentatively.

"Finally have a place where she can really shine?" Mr Granger asked, his discerning dark eyes intent.

Severus' brows furrowed. "Even amongst the magical, I fear her talent is quite poignant and— very special. It will require some additional nurturing for her to thrive, and protection as well."

He frowned in thought. "Miss Granger?"

The little dragonet perked at her name, her frilly crests rising like a fan unfurling.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The dragonet zipped around, and in a flash had arranged the balls of yarn from her mother's knitting basket into an intricately detailed tapestry of a tall, brooding Potions master dumping what looked like a brain into a cauldron as a sizable pile of odd-looking beans threatened to teeter off the counter and spill onto the tapestry. She clutched her clawed forelegs to her chest and then proceeded to dramatically "die" over the tapestry, her small form as still as a rock.

Snape's lips curved upward, then he was picking her up and rubbing her frills. "I'm not really sure _how _you knew that, Miss Granger, but you are, in fact, quite correct."

She performed a perfect loop-de-loop and zipped around his head in glee.

Mr and Mrs Granger looked at Snape with such mutual hope that he found himself quite discomfited—

Never had anyone had such blind faith in him before, Muggle or magical.

He was—

_Well, look at me_! he thought to himself.

_PurrrrRRRrrrRRRrrrRRRRrrrRRRRrrrrRRRRR!_

The little fey dragonet bonked against his hand, her whirling topaz eyes sparkling as she radiated such a terrible trust in him that he wanted to both curse her for her foolishness and cry for the sheer pain in caused him—

Could he let this pure, innocent young soul meet him solely as the infamous bastard teacher that everyone believed him to be?

_That I am_, he thought bitterly. _Do you not deserve their scorn?_

Death Eater—

Unforgivable.

The magical world would attempt to subjugate her—

Use her without remorse.

Tear her down.

Clip her wings—steal the greatness from her before she could even find it in herself...

Bully her just as surely as her erstwhile Muggle classmates did—

He was no stranger to that.

Worse—

If Dumbledore found out what she was, he would undoubtedly turn her into one of his blind sycophants who believed he was the undisputed champion of the greater good, the light, and all things brave and pure.

"_Pure" my moon-white arse_, he thought, mentally scoffing at the very idea.

Hermione sneezed, and a shimmering, colour-shifting black opal landed in his lap.

Hermione's eyes whirled. _Oops. Sorry. _She hung her head shamefully.

_Kssshsshttt!_

She sneezed again, this time a pear-shaped, violet-tinted, faceted—was that taaffeite?!—bonked against one of his buttons and fell into his lap.

"Oh! Sorry, Professor," Hazel said apologetically. "It's allergy season!"

Severus blinked, his wand already out as he cast his wand over the two gems in his lap.

Fey gemstones— gems created from the concentration of magic into the purest of minerals coveted by wizards around the world because of their unparalleled splendour and rarity—

Because they couldn't be stolen or they would curse you.

They had to be given freely.

Gods—

She was a real fey.

Hermione Granger was a changeling, and her parents probably had no idea at all. In fact, they probably enjoyed the blessings of the fey that had swapped her out with their own child in the hopes they would raise her to understand the human world.

Hermione saw him eyeing her sneezed out gems, and she hung her head, thinking herself rude.

"They're beautiful," he said to her.

Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in a draconic smile that beamed from ear-to-ear. She poofed in a cloud of magic and reappeared atop a carved wooden chest, bobbing her head excitedly.

She hopped off it and nosed the box over to him with a powerful move of her snout that belied her tiny form.

Mrs Granger chuckled. "It's her college fund— she's been saving for years."

Severus frowned. "Her what?"

"We had them appraised, and people seem to think they are synthetic— too perfect to be real— but she hoped if she saved enough of them, it could buy her supplies for school."

Severus tried very, very hard not to burst into laughter.

Muggles _would_ think them lab-grown perfections—

He lifted the lid of the chest and almost fell over in shock as thousands upon thousands of gemstones spilt out, shimmering and perfect.

Hermione dove into the pile, getting gems everywhere as she searched for— something in particular.

Her head stuck out of the pile and she shook the excess gems off like a dog shaking off water— if water could ever be worth so much, ever.

She had a flawless red diamond in her mouth, with such hidden depths of colour trapped in the darkest of facets. She bonked his hand and placed it in his palm, looking up at him with a draconic smile.

He could feel the magic dripping off it—

She nosed it into his hand more forcibly, her intent clear.

"You can't want me to have _this—_" Snape protested even as his brain screamed at him to shut the hell up.

Hermione took it in her mouth and dropped it in his palm again, looking up at him like a canine who dropped a tennis ball in the hopes he'd pick it up. She sneezed again, showering his hand in a small rain of tanzanite and what he suspected were various rare earth metals—

Suddenly the formation of rare earth metals became clear to him, and he stifled a disbelieving laugh at the irony of it all.

She hung her head in shame, thinking ill of herself or her manners.

"It's beautiful. Thank you," he said, trying to still the beating of his heart at seeing her smile brighten her reptilian face and her whirling gemstone eyes. "If you truly wish me to take it, I would be glad to have it."

Hermione did a loop-de-loop, obviously happy with his choice.

He made a sudden decision, right there in the middle of the Grangers' living room, as a protective surge filled him.

Old magick came to his beck and call— the kind of thing saved for powerful shows of strength between the old families or the times when one's bond was sealed in the purest of magic.

"I would take you as my apprentice, Hermione Granger. I would teach you the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. I will teach you the ways of the wand, but you will not rely on it. I will show you the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron and its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses," Snape said so softly it was but a bare whisper, a brush of velvet across the starry expanse of night. "I will teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death— if you would but share your trust in me."

Snape's black eyes were endless pools of obsidian, but fire blazed within each facet. "I will teach you to stand on your own, protect you until you are able, and set you free as your own master to decide your true path in life. This bond will be forever, for there is no trust greater than the one between the master to the apprentice and the apprentice to the master, even when you are grown and powerful, sweeping the world under your will and influence. But you must make this choice on your own of your own free will and take the time you need to choose which path you wish to take."

"An apprenticeship with me— or a relatively normal, magical education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry shared amongst the many teachers that live there. Some would argue that any education at Hogwarts is magical enough for anyone, and I will not be an easy master by the standards that most live by."

"But first— we should go to Gringotts," he said. "Regardless of what life you choose, Miss Granger, you should protect your assets for what they are."

Easton and Hazel Granger's eyes widened as the potions master stood and extended his hand, and Hermione Granger's small human hand latched onto his fingers as she gazed up at him with absolute trust.

* * *

"Those gems were really— worth something?" The Granger parents looked around the huge vault in awe— piles upon piles of golden galleons in exchange for their daughter's chests full of "sneezed up" gems.

The goblin at the door of the vault snorted in amusement, baring his teeth. "More than a _little_— something. Yes."

Hermione zoomed around the vault, checking out the piles of gold by sliding down them on her belly, utterly unimpressed by the value of it save for the fun of playing in them.

"We will, of course, invest it as Master Snape has requested in exchange for an occasional sneeze in our direction." The goblin looked quite amused as Hermione stuck her snout into a cup of something, snorted, and then sneezed out a perfect black opal the size of an egg.

It rolled over to the goblin's foot, and the amused goblin picked it up. "Thank you, my Lady."

Hermione cocked her head and seemed rather sheepish that her random sneezes turned out to be worth so much, but her new golden playground was definitely a _big _plus.

It even came with an enormous library!

What more could a young witch ask for?

"What do you _**mean **_you put half of her wealth into _**my **_vault and moved it down to the lower levels?" Snape demanded of the other goblin who was taking inventory of the items lining the far wall.

"She requested it, Master Snape," the goblin said, quilling away without even bothering to look at him. "That is your traditional due as her master as contracted by the Old Ways with her acceptance of your formal apprenticeship. She was _very _thorough in researching the traditions."

"She's eleven!"

"Imagine what a meticulous researcher she'll be when she's older," the goblin said, obviously amused by it all.

"You let her have access to the goblin library?"

The goblin smirked. "Does this displease you?"

Severus blinked. "I have not known the goblins to give access to their library in the history of— _ever_."

The goblin chuckled. "We do not give access to mere humans, Master Snape. She is not, as you well know. Not in any way that matters to us."

The goblin handed him a small box.

"What is—"

"Why not open it and find out?"

Snape, eternally suspicious, fidgeted a bit. He struggled to force himself to open it without scanning it with a wand first and thus insulting the entire Goblin Nation.

He opened the latch to expose a bed of dark green velvet cradling two formal circlets forged in goblin silver— delicate vines and laurels detailed with small, rare gems set in the distinctive headdress of a master.

It took every last bit of control he had not to drop the box on the floor in total shock.

"Miss Granger," Severus said softly. "Is this what you truly want?"

Hermione stood beside him, looking up at him with that very same look of wonder. "Yes."

"You are sure?"

"Yes."

"You've discussed this with your parents?"

Hermione nodded.

Snape knelt beside her. He very carefully lifted the master's circlet and placed it on his head.

"I, Severus Tobias Snape, Master of Potions, hereby swear to be the master and protector, friend and confidant, and guide along the path of life for my apprentice, Hermione Jean Granger. May this bond last long after she stands on her own. This I swear upon my magic, my bond and my honour. So mote it be."

The circlet magically wove around his head and latched, sinking into his skin with a soft _hiss_.

He lifted the apprentice circlet and held it out to her.

Hermione accepted it and placed it on her head without hesitation. "I, Hermione Jean Granger, do hereby swear to be your apprentice and student, to always trust in your guidance, take in your lessons, and have faith in your judgment. I submit to your protection and place my trust in your honour. May it last beyond the time when I can finally stand on my own. So mote it be."

The circlet hissed as it sank into her skin, fusing to her magic and her body.

The gems glowed as their auras wove together, binding together in both oath and mutual trust.

Flash!

Mr and Mrs Granger snapped a photo proudly of their beloved daughter and her new master.

Severus dearly hoped the image of his face shattered the lens even as the young fey dragon zipped and twirled around him with happiness.

* * *

"You _what?_" Dumbledore said. "You _cannot _be serious."

"Do I _look _like the face of comedy, Headmaster?" Snape said, black eyes narrowing. "I am well within my rights to take on an apprentice. It is written in the very words of the founding of this school."

"You should not have even been there!"

"You would prefer to have a Minerva with a galloping case of cat-flu rampaging around London, giving an entire Muggle subdivision cat ears and whiskers every time they sneeze?"

"Well, no, but— you've never once shown any desire to—"

"I never found the right one."

"The right— The Dark Lord is hardly going to have mercy on any apprentice you should take—"

"The Dark Lord will _not _be privy to the arrangement," Severus said, eyes narrowing.

"Any injuries you take will reflect on the apprentice!"

"I am aware."

"You would see her tortured?"

"I would not willingly place myself in such situations."

Severus was silent, and Albus stared at him and contemplated the younger wizard's unvoiced accusation.

"Renounce the bond, Severus," Albus ordered coldly, his blue eyes losing the famous twinkle.

The room suddenly seemed to become oppressive as a force bared down on Severus, and he grunted as he was forced to his knees. He clutched at his head, shrieking in agony as his body was torn in all directions by invisible bonds.

"You _**will **_remember your Vow!"

"You will remember _**yours!**_" Severus hissed fiercely.

Magic curled around Albus, and he tightened the yoke around Snape's body.

"The greater good _**must **_prevail, Severus! You _**understand **_this!"

"I _**serve **_the greater good by protecting _**her!**_" Snape snarled even as he cried out in agony.

_**Ba-dum.**_

_**Ba-dum.**_

Pulses like the beating on an ancient god's heart sounded as magic pooled in Snape's convulsing body.

_**Ba-dum.**_

He kept screaming, thrashing, fighting against the tendrils of the old Vow that demanded he renounce his bond with his new apprentice— the apprentice who had willingly bound herself to his very magic, his soul.

Blackness poured from his arm as the sickly green tendrils of the old Vow burst through his chest and exited his body as the pulsing heartbeat of the apprenticeship bond between himself and Hermione tightening around his magic and his soul, protecting him from all threats, all bonds that were not theirs—

_Ancient magic_

_Both cold and hot_

_Combined together_

_Where you could not_

_A broken vow_

_You took from him._

_A promise made_

_To suit your whim._

_A Mark given _

_In pain and hate_

_Taken in reckless_

_Need to rate._

_Ancient magick _

_Heals all scars._

_Ancient magick_

_Claims what's Ours._

_We bound two souls_

_Fated to rest_

_Together bound_

_Forever blessed._

_You will not have them,_

_Dumbledore._

_You will not have them,_

_Forevermore._

The blast of primordial, ancient magick blew outwards from Snape's body and slammed Albus into his bookshelf and into his spinning globe. The globe toppled as Albus slid down the bookshelf and a pile of books landed on top of him, even as the Dark cloud of nastiness was obliterated off the fair face of creation.

The entire room was lit up by an utterly blinding blue-white and then faded to a forbidding pitch black.

* * *

It had taken the threat of about a hundred stunners and the bribe of a full pound of Severus' highly-coveted custom tea blend to keep Minerva from storming up to the Headmaster's office and doing something—

Either very, very stupid or very, very impressive.

He wasn't really sure which one it would be, either.

He was pretty sure it would have been an immensely satisfying display of sheer magical wrath as yet unseen by Scotland, but he really didn't want Minerva to end up getting fired for attacking the Headmaster outright.

Hermione had clung to him like a burr when he came back, her small body still shivering from the agony of having felt his torture secondhand, and he soothed her with a gentle hand.

How very strange that it had become so easy—

To accept her frequent accosting of his personal space—

To accept her touch, her worry, her emotions—

Hogwarts herself seemed to think that Albus was far too full of himself, because as Minerva and he spoke on the way back to his chambers, he found it had been utterly transformed.

The dungeon had become a forest—

The like of which should have been in the most ancient of places.

Minerva let out a startled meow as she ran her hands across the bark of the tree roots— trees so utterly massive that only the roots could be touched. The trunks themselves rose impressively upward and upward they most definitely were.

The classroom was now nestled in a woodland grove, the shelves made of living wood and lined with soft moss; a shimmering layer of magic protecting each shelf from the sun and elements.

And the sun cast its dappled light into the room naturally, making for a well-lit but pleasantly cool, not too humid, ambient temperature.

The desks were all formed from the tree roots, set auditorium-style around his raised main teaching platform. All the seats were thickly lined with lush moss. The tables had been seemingly carved from the smoothest granite, polished to a mirror-like sheen.

Yet, everything was there.

Cauldrons, supplies, the ingredient closet, even the preserved creatures in jars that had been there since the days of the Founders.

And the lake—

Roots and a transparent wall spanned every way both upward and down, giving Slytherin an absolutely beautiful view of the famed Black Lake that loomed unseen by most, unknown to even more unless one was up on the surface.

It was like the world's most impressive aquarium— a window into an entirely different world.

Hermione was buzzing about with excitement and wonder, and Severus gave her a silent nod to go off and appease her insatiable curiosity.

She took him with, her hand wrapped tightly around his thumb and index finger, refusing to let him go far from her.

He tried to ignore Minerva's look of sheer delight as the young witch happily dragged him around with her, taking him with her rather than fleeing away from him as most if not all people would have done.

How strange it was, and how painfully touching.

How foreign to have such trust and a young witch who thrived off of such closeness.

That he could even give her such seemed even stranger as if Hogwarts itself was taking away all of the reasons he had come to hate his indentured servitude there.

Always before, Slytherin had been condemned to live in the miserable pit of Hogwarts— the dungeons. It hadn't been that the dungeons had been a truly horrible place to live, but it had never been a place anyone from above could believe was even remotely welcoming.

Slytherin's domain had always been a forbidding place of discomfort and dark mystery, never a place of wonder and natural beauty.

And much to his startled surprise, the changes had also transformed Slytherin's living quarters much the same, gifting the once-neglected house with a bit of an upgrade. Natural greens now grew to replace what once had been made and carved by human hands. The common room now had easy access to the lake, giving all who lived there a living portal all around them. The lake's natural lighting diffused downward, casting the rooms with a pleasing, ever-changing ambience.

And the irony of ironies, vast gardens spanned around them, growing everything from rare fruit trees, bushes, and rows upon rows of potions plants that the common eye would never have realised were there.

To the casual eye, they were just beautiful plants—

To him, they were a veritable treasure trove of valuable and renewable potions ingredients.

It was enough to make Snape forgive Hogwarts for having allowed his miserable time as a student to happen.

Something deep in the pit of his stomach told him that Hogwarts had been, until now, unable to assist him.

Something had obviously changed.

Something had unleashed Hogwarts again to be how she should have been from the very beginning— a _living _school of magic.

Now, people would come down to the "dungeons" and feel that perhaps it wasn't just a place for Dark witches and wizards, terrible secrets, and evil deeds.

He might have to beat Pomona Sprout off with a stick to keep the stout Hufflepuff witch from raiding their brand-new gardens, however.

Minerva was mrowling in ecstasy as she found the lush patch of magical catmint in the newly acquired hydroponic planters that lined the walls.

Bother, he'd _**never **_be rid of her now!

He admitted, at least to himself, that finding his private quarters after the upgrades was an interesting adventure in itself.

And what a quarters it was.

Gods above and below—

Hogwarts was _so _forgiven.

His quarters were lit by dappled sun that broke through the ancient trees, highlighting his entire collection of books that now lay upon newly "grown" shelves. The shelves themselves were lined with a sort of fibre clearly designed to protect the parchment and leather, unlike the mossy ones in the laboratory classrooms.

He had to boggle at how alive everything felt, no, _was_.

_FIP!_

Hermione was flitting around in her fey dragon form, inspecting everything. He had no doubt that she knew it was his place— no, _theirs_.

There, close by, was the entrance to her quarters, a place to call her own nestled within his domain, his safety— his protection.

Minerva jerked her head as she suddenly realised that Hermione was much more than she had appeared previously.

The little dragonet was zipping around, doing loop-de-loops and clinging to all the shelves as she took inventory of all the books first.

But she didn't touch them, no.

It was as though she knew that some of them were dangerous books or very delicate.

Content to look but not touch, she zoomed around in a cloud of magical particles, every so often sneezing and sending a random gem tumbling across the floor.

Severus picked them up and placed them in the small chest that had appeared on the mantle— perfect for collecting Hermione's sneezed treasure. The goblins, he knew, would be if they already weren't nigh _ecstatic_.

Their cut in being able to exchange the gems for galleons was no small thing, but considering their network of contacts, only the goblins could offer such reliable and fair service. Humans would ask too many questions and want to know where they came from.

Everyone knew you didn't ask a goblin where they got something— _ever_.

And Hermione's coffers were hardly empty, nor were his thanks to the crafty little witch.

Most of it, he knew he'd never use and thus tip off those like Lucius Malfoy to his suddenly improved financial status. He would, perhaps, renovate the home at Spinner's End and perhaps even sell it and get a place more fitting for himself and his apprentice. That he could have afforded to do long ago, but never did.

He'd never had a reason to put anything into the place that had been his most horrible childhood's home base.

But—

Now he had a reason to invest in a place where they could have their lessons and live together. It was expected as the master to care for the apprentice and provide the support they needed to learn and mature. Most masters took that very seriously because the ancient magic ensured that any harm that came to one came to the other— to harm one's apprentice was to harm one's own self.

It was a guarantee to make absolutely sure that no master ever abused their apprentice, and no apprentice would do something so horrible as plot to overthrow their master.

It was also why Wizarding law made meddling with masters and apprentices highly, highly forbidden.

Minerva was still gaping at the little fey dragon, barely able to keep up with tracking the little reptile as she zoomed about.

"Is she registered?" Minerva asked at once.

Severus snorted. Of course she was.

"Yes, Minerva," he replied.

Like he would not protect Hermione from all angles.

Hermione chirred with delight as she found her things, all as she left them in the "old room" and the newest chest of shiny things she was piling up in the corner.

Severus figured she simply couldn't help herself. Shiny things were like iron filings to a magnet for Hermione, and she would probably collect them much like she did her books, only she'd slide down the pile on her belly on the former rather than the latter.

He _did _notice that Hogwarts had very carefully excluded anything iron in the rooms— as if it knew that it would hurt Hermione.

Or potentially could.

He was pretty sure that it would—

The Fae and iron were well-known enemies.

Even the cauldrons had been replaced by goblin steel— the kind of thing that most schools could never even hope to afford despite how superior it was.

Again, the goblins were probably ecstatic at having such a high-profile school using their fine metallurgy.

It was probably a one sneeze worth of goblin steel in just the classroom alone—

Probably good she kept sneezing, all things considered. Children blew up cauldrons so easily. Goblin cauldrons would likely survive, to be truthful, but children never failed to impress upon him that if it could blow to pieces it would, and it would always be a child's inattentive hand that did it.

"Apprentice," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

_Foop!_

She was in front of him, staring up at him with wide, trusting eyes.

"Come, let us work on your lessons for a while."

Hermione beamed at him, clearly excited to learn.

Severus snorted, amused despite himself.

She was going to be _such _a little know-it-all when school actually started.

* * *

The Welcoming Feast was, as Snape expected, rife with a lot of blatant staring from the tables full of children who had known him— most of it focused on the small witch sitting beside him who took her place with such ease and dignity.

He wasn't really sure which amazed them more: him having an apprentice or that the apprentice didn't seem to think that having _him _for a master was unspeakable torture.

The incoming children seemed confused, as usual, as to exactly what would happen to them now, shuffling awkwardly to their new tables as they were Sorted as usual.

Potter was among them this term—

The spitting image of his swine of a father but with Lily's vivid green eyes.

Dumbledore looked at him with fond expectation, but all Severus could see was the all-too-familiar shadow of the remorseless bully who, with his pack of like-minded best mates, had made it his personal mission in life to torment Severus for all of his years as a Hogwarts student and beyond.

Yet—

As he searched for the rage and the bitterness that normally came from seeing the product of Lily and James Potter—

He felt the warmth of Hermione Granger leaning against him as she nervously scanned the crowds. Her small hand clasped his teaching robes with a habitual need for comfort.

Crowds bothered her.

Other children bothered her.

He could definitely relate. He knew well what it was like to see enemies everywhere.

What he wasn't used to having was a safe place to go to, and that was something _she _had now, through him.

The irony was thick enough to cut and serve up as a holiday pudding.

Dumbledore was treading very lightly around him of late— so much so that he wondered if the old man was going to ask him to do anything yet that year outside of the usual school responsibilities.

It was frankly rather creepy.

Hermione sneezed, sniffling due to her allergies or perhaps because of all the children wearing perfumes and other obnoxious fumes. Thankfully, her human form did not shower the table in gemstones, much to both her and his relief. The last thing he needed was people trying to capture her and make her sneeze out gems by dousing her with pepper or something.

Not that it would have done them a lick of good.

Gems not given freely and without coercion was like taking unicorn blood.

Very bad things would come to curse their lives for their greed.

Fey all the world around would come their way to personally rain shite down upon them.

Perhaps both magically and physically.

It was bad enough Lucius had already looked upon the gems in his master's circlet and wondered who he had murdered to get them.

That his little apprentice had literally sneezed them up would have completely floored poor Lucius.

Pity he couldn't tell him just to watch the man _writhe_.

And now Hagrid was being a right pain in his arse. He threw down a length of iron chain on the Head Table— no doubt for Fluffy— and asked the headmaster if he could order more like it. The broken link seemed to prove that the three-headed monster had not been overly impressed by the original.

The immensely heavy chain ended up causing the table to tip over, and the links went flying. One hit Hermione on the head, and she cried out in pain.

"_**IDIOT MAN!" **_Snape roared in fury, his entire body fuming as he swept his injured apprentice up in his arms and stormed off to the infirmary, trying not to trip and wince as his own head burned in sympathy.

People scrambled out of his way, and he was quite thankful that his reputation as a temperamental bastard was still undamaged enough to keep them tumbling away from his person and out of his way.

Hagrid, covered in an assortment of iron links and various foodstuffs from the Head Table, looked rather put-out.

"I guess I shouldn'a done tha'."

Albus, his hair and beard dripping with mashed potatoes and gravy and a few random chicken wings, merely waved his wand to clean things up.

"Hagrid, I would like to speak with you in my office after the Feast."

The half-giant somehow managed to look distinctly smaller.

"Yes, Headmaster."

* * *

Fluffy was—

Anything but Fluffy.

If anything he was a menace that really needed a good grooming, but who in their right mind or even left mind or lost mind would actually want to get close enough to _do _such a thing?

Fluffy took a swipe at him, nailing him the leg before he could get out of the way in time.

A blur of multi-coloured rainbow fury slammed into Fluffy's middle head, covering the bewildered canine in a cloud of prismatic shed scales.

Clawing.

Scraping.

Furious draconic ire— albeit in miniature.

Fluffy yelped, stumbling backwards until his rump hit the back wall. He whimpered, desperately trying to bite at the furious reptile, but ending up biting himself instead.

Obviously not the brightest tool in the shed— not unlike his so-called master.

Snape limped and leaned on the closer wall, wincing as his leg bled out.

Damnable three-headed menace.

A soothing warmth wrapped around his injured leg.

The little dragonet was crooning with worry, clinging to his leg like a living bandage.

Oddly he felt better.

A _lot _better.

"Come now, let's get out of here. Let go of my abused leg."

Hermione clung on like an enraptured octopus, utterly refusing to leave his wounded leg.

He pulled her off gently, tutting, cradling her against his chest and then distracting her with his shiny buttons (that never failed to fascinate her.)

As she worried on one with her tiny teeth, he realised his leg wasn't bleeding or even injured. In fact, the nagging pain he'd had in his calf for the last year was gone as well.

The three-headed dog was crawling forward, belly on the ground and whining, his tail wagging in appeasement.

Hermione was glaring accusingly at the offending canine from Snape's chest, clearly unimpressed.

Whine.

Whine_._

Tail wags.

_**Gah!**_

Slurps to the face.

Hermione stood, now drenched and human again, looking mighty flustered.

She placed her hand on the middle head and the dog whined and tail wagged apologetically.

Apparently taking a bite or three out of yourself makes for much improved manners. Who knew?

"Master?" Hermione said, wobbling unsteadily. "I feel funny."

Severus staggered too but caught her as she fell. They crumpled together as a heavy fog and dizziness took ahold of them both. Their brains fell into what felt like thick molten taffy. Their eyes closed without their express permission as the great cerberus tucked his chosen people between his legs and lay his head over them protectively as magic did the rest.

Golden light shone out from under their closed lids and was reflected in Fluffy's triple paired eyes.

* * *

"But that's me dog!" Hagrid protested as the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures gave Hermione three collars, one for each head.

The cerberus tail-wagged, seemingly ecstatic to be outside, and waited for Hermione to latch the collar around his triple necks before rolling around on the grass like it was the best massage of his life.

"We'll have lessons every week, my dear," the official said. "Basic training, hand commands, signals, and the like, okay?"

"Okay!" Hermione said, patting the huge canine on the belly. "Can we name him?"

"_**NO! That's my Fluffy! You can't name him! He's**_ _**MINE!"**_ Hagrid bellowed.

"I want to call him Helios, after the Greek Titan of the sun and guardian of oaths. You like that?"

Ex-Fluffy barked in triplicate, tail wagging his approval.

The official was already writing it down.

Hermione eyed the very large bone that was far, far bigger than her. "Ummm…"

Severus took her hand. "Here, cast with me."

Hermione moved her wand with his movements and repeated the spell exactly as he directed. "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The bone floated over to the (very) happy cerberus.

"_**WOOF!"**_

"Mr Hagrid," the official said calmly. "These are very rare demon-dogs of the Underworld. Greece is the only place they are found and bred legally. Please tell me how you came about one?"

"A Greek chappie gave 'im to me at the ol' tavern," Hagrid said. "Was a gentleman's agreement. We shook on it an' everything!"

"These dogs are very dangerous creatures, Mr Hagrid. They will guard their things so viciously that they will kill anyone who gets close to them that they do not know. Tell me, is there something you require guarded so fiercely?"

"Well, me stuff, of course," Hagrid said rather awkwardly.

The official arched a brow as she looked at Hagrid's ramshackle hut. "Yes, I can see so much value here."

"The registration fees and the fees for the Greek language classes are a bit hefty, Master Snape, Apprentice Granger. Will you require a payment plan?"

Hermione shook her head. "If you ask the goblins, they will take care of it. Just mention our account."

The official looked to Snape, who nodded back with a bemused expression.

The official nodded. "I will do so, thank you, young lady."

Hermione smiled at her. "Thank you, Madam Gavalas."

"You are quite welcome, my dear. If you could both please place your seals on the registration parchment."

Snape and Hermione pooled some wax onto it and pressed their signet rings into the cooling wax.

"Helios is now legally registered to you both. Greek lessons will be Tuesday evenings, and we can send the tutor here so you can learn along with Helios, okay?"

Severus nodded. "Thank you, Madam, for coming on such short notice."

"It was a true pleasure," Madam Gavalas said. "Familiar bonds are an honour to see, especially ones that save the life of a fine beast like this. If we had found him unsocialised and unregistered with no bond to temper his natural ferocity, we would have had to put him down."

"You can't do this! This is me dog!" Hagrid wailed.

"Now, the Greek Ministry would like to have permission to breed him on occasion to help keep the lines from being inbred, if that is okay with you both," Madam Gavalas said. "This wouldn't be until after all the lessons are done and you have your full handling license."

Hermione looked to Severus with a baffled look.

"That would be fine, Madam," Severus answered for her, not missing the girl's relief.

Hermione wrapped her hand around the curls of his robe, pulling on it for comfort, but she smiled at the official genuinely.

The woman looked at her with a soft smile, not missing the shyness in the young witch or the tightness of the trust she had for Snape.

"Now, Mr Hagrid," Madam Gavalas said. "We will speak with the headmaster about the highly questionable legality of having a Grecian hellhound on school grounds without a licence or training as well as the matter of _other _interestingly bred beasts I have seen on my way in."

Hagrid paled as the intimidatingly small elder witch led the way back to the school with Hagrid bumbling along behind.

* * *

And so, Hogwarts so kindly connected Snape's quarters to the "new and improved" Grecian temple-styled room where Helios was settled down in.

The huge hound seemed much happier with the arrangement, especially not having to have a chain attached to his collar, adored Hermione's ministrations, belly rubs, and even Snape's application of his anti-flea and pest potion on the dog's body.

The temple, dedicated to Hades, Ruler of the Underworld, flickered with purple fire on magical sconces as the great statuary of Hades Himself stood in the middle.

The cerberus sprawled comfortably in the middle of the "room" which now resembled a piece of ancient Greece, and if anyone doubted his ability to guard the newly upgraded room, they didn't after the first attempt to test the great dog's attentiveness.

Dumbledore, somewhat perturbed that the school was taking liberties in changing itself without his permission, seemed to know better than to insult the young witch who tended the dog as he, in turn, guarded the Headmaster's secret that lay below.

Severus watched him so very, very carefully any time the old Headmaster came around.

Hagrid tried to visit "Fluffy" on a number of occasions, but he apparently forgot that his relationship with the hellhound wasn't exactly peaches and cream the first time around.

It most definitely wasn't on the second, as Helios was even more protective of the portal to his master's home as he was the door under the temple.

Perhaps, Snape considered, it was because of Hermione.

Hermione was a sensitive girl and so eager to please. In her true form, she was brassy and daring, commandeering of his lap, warmer of his shoulder, she even bossed Helios around in draconic chirrs.

But even then, she responded to Severus like the sea to the lunar pull, flitting and twirling around him like a hummingbird around its favourite flowers.

It was so very unlike any other relationship he had ever had in his life.

Such trust.

Such warmth.

Even Hermione's parents trusted him to take good care of their daughter, asking only that he and her come to visit from time to time and let them know how she was doing.

How could he not when they had such faith in him— genuine faith.

That, too, was a first in his life.

Perhaps the second.

Once, for a short time, Lily Evans had had faith in him, back when her fights with her sister drove her into the same park he, too had frequented.

That had all changed when she came to Hogwarts and gained "better" friends.

Non-Slytherin friends.

Bigoted, yes, but "better" in her mind.

But Hermione—

She trusted him to guide her life.

She did the research—

She knew the binding words—

She would be a powerful witch the like the world had not seen since the time when the Founders roamed the halls alive. That he was certain of.

And she would not be limited by the constraints of Gryffindor that had turned Lily into a crusader of a one-sided light, the myopic devotion to academics that Ravenclaws walked, the lemming-like blind loyalty of Hufflepuff, or even the more self-serving ways of Slytherin.

As his apprentice, she would be Slytherin, but she would be so much more as well.

She could be herself, safely cloaked in his rancor and his fearsome reputation.

"Master?"

"Hn?"

"Where are we going?"

"Down." He looked at her, taking her hand as he lifted the deceptively flimsy door down. Why Dumbledore insisted on such a thing was beyond him. Surely a hidden door would have been a better idea, even with Helios on guard.

Hermione grasped his hand, swallowing hard as she gathered her bravery.

"On three, we jump."

"Together?"

"Together."

Hermione pressed closer to him. "Okay."

"One. Two. Three."

They jumped into the gathering darkness—

Into the Abyss.

The slithering dark gathered even as it both cushioned and tightened around them.

"Apprentice, tell me what these are."

The vines slithered and constricted around them.

"Devil's snare," she whispered. "A really, really _big _one."

"And what do we know about it?"

The body's instinctive response to the vines was to tense up, and he allowed himself to stay so for the lesson. Yet she—

Her body was relaxed against him, using him as her life raft.

Her safe place.

"It loves the dark and damp. It fears the opposite."

"And what is that, Apprentice?"

"The sun. Bright light. The heat from a fire."

"And what if you have no light or fire. What if your spells fail you?"

She looked into his eyes and smiled. "Relax, Master." She snuggled into his buttons.

A smile tugged on his lips as his arms wrapped around her, and he relaxed, allowing the plant drop them down to what lay beyond.

The other tests they didn't trigger, for his job was to merely ensure they remained intact. Hermione stayed close, boggling at all the tasks and the strange rock her master carried to pass through each task unmolested.

When they got to the final chamber, however, Hermione saw that the platform was empty.

"What goes here, Master?" she asked, visibly curious

Snape cracked his neck. "Something that Dumbledore cares very much about."

"But it's not here."

"No, not yet."

Hermione scrunched up her face. "It must be very important. And very vague."

Snape snorted. "You will find, my apprentice, that most things involving the headmaster are both very important and very vague."

Hermione tightened her grasp on his fingers. "I much prefer you."

Snape froze in place and then looked down at her, seeing the fire in her amber brown eyes. He nodded to her silently, having no profound words to say. "Come, time to go home."

He touched the stone in his hand, and said, "Fizzing Whizbees."

They disappeared with a _pop_.

* * *

"He really likes music," Hermione said, playing a small recorder as Helios tail thumped and closed his eyes in obvious pleasure. "But he's still awake, see?" She placed a biscuit on his middle nose.

His tongue shot out, flipped it into his mouth and it disappeared with a swift _THUP!_

Helios tail wagged, growling softly and watching Hermione through half-lidded eyes as she rubbed his muzzle.

"Good dog," she said, praising him affectionately. "You keep a good watch over us, okay?"

Woof!

The cerberus tail thumped loudly against the temple floor in ardent agreement.

* * *

"There is a troll loose in the castle!" Quirrell yelled before promptly passing out cold onto the floor of the Great Hall.

"Come, we must go check on the door."

Hermione took his robes into her hand, taking her place at his side with habitual ease. They fled the Great Hall through the side door, away from the rushing students. They were the first to the stairways, and they slipped into the third floor's forbidden area before the flood of fleeing students even know they were there.

Helios tail thumped as they approached, and Hermione zipped around his heads in a blur of colours, checking the cerberus out from nose to tail tip. She returned to Snape's side, clasping onto his robes as he patted the dog down and checked his paws and legs for any signs of a scuffle.

The dog whined, begging for a belly rub, and Snape sighed heavily, obliging the huge animal as he dodged being tongued from three sides.

"He's okay, Master?" Hermione asked.

He nodded. "He is."

Hermione smiled up at him. "Is the door?"

"Here, I have a spell to teach you."

Hermione pulled out her wand, eager to learn.

Severus guided her wand in a pattern. "Remember this when checking traps on a door— tampering or if you even suspect someone may have touched it that shouldn't."

Hermione perked, repeating the incantation carefully and copying the wand movement precisely.

The door glowed a brilliant blue and then faded showing the imprint of hands upon it. There were more than just one.

"Now, to add a limiter— a time frame— we must concentrate on a particular time as we cast the spell or use a word such as _dies_ for day or _hora _for hour. If you cannot remember the word, you must think it clearly in your mind. It must not waver. Now, what is is the Latin for say, three hours?"

"Tribus horis," Hermione said promptly.

"Good, now weave that into the spell."

Hermione frowned in concentration as she tried to shape the Latin into the form she wanted.

"Remember, the words are just a crutch to guide the mind for when the clarity fails you. If you can imagine it clearer, then you are not limited by words."

Hermione set her jaw, doing the wand movement. "_Tactum deprehenditur trihorium." _

The blast of her determined magic made the entire room light up, and they saw that the temple was smeared with foot and hand prints, but all of them were not the distinctive splay of her master's hands or her smaller ones.

Large hands encroached on many surfaces, scuffled footsteps, and the splay of a figure silhouetted against the wall where the person in question had pressed up against the walls and fled back towards the door.

Severus frowned darkly, and Hermione cringed. "Did I do it wrong, Master?"

His eyes flicked back to her. "No, Apprentice, you did not. My frown is not for you."

Hermione relaxed a little but seemed a little dubious since his frown continued. She followed his gaze to the series of glowing "imprints" of a man against the wall surrounded by huge canine footprints and pools of dried canine slobber— and _blood_.

The silhouette of the figure highlighted in magic had a turban on its head.

Severus patted Helios' middle head. "Good dog."

"Do you think he's okay?" Hermione asked, worried when she saw the blood.

"Wherever he is, my apprentice, he is bleeding out— and he deserves it."

Hermione's eyes widened.

* * *

_**He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named RETURNS!**_

_**DADA Instructor at Hogwarts Found Wearing Second Face!**_

_A troll set loose at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was discovered by Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Quirinus Quirrell. The flighty teacher fainted upon delivery of the message, but the children were all evacuated safely for the staff to deal with the troll._

_However, while the troll was subdued in short order, it soon became clear that Professor Quirrell was not recovering from his faint, and he was taken to the infirmary. There, it was discovered he was bleeding, which many believed to be from having fought the troll before coming to warn the students and staff._

_Checking his head for concussive injuries, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the school's Mediwitch, she discovered that Quirinus had two faces— the one he'd been known for all his life and a second face… belonging to none other than He Who Shall Not Be Named._

_Aurors descended upon Hogwarts for the better of a week to not only subdue and take Professor Quirrell into custody but also go through all of his belongings. _

_According to his journals, Quirinus had gone on sabbatical in 1990 to allegedly gain more than theoretical experience, but instead went off in search of what might remain of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. While his initial interest was mostly theoretical, it became clear that his feelings of inadequacy and wanting to make the world see him in a better light drove Quirrell to find what others could not: the Dark Lord's essence._

_Quirrell was, subsequently, possessed by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and was sent back to Hogwarts to carry out his orders—_

_One of the things he was tasked with appears to have been the murder of a number of the local unicorns in order to harvest and drink their blood, something that has been known to bring a person back to life from the brink of death but at a very great price._

_Mr Quirrell will be kept in secure in stasis holding until if or when the possession can be reversed. If it cannot, he will be kept there indefinitely to prevent the habitation and repossession of another victim upon Quirrell's death._

"_It's obvious that You-Know-Who didn't intend to have Quirrell survive the experience," Auror Rictus Mortimer observed. "If the diaries weren't proof enough, the very nature of Dark Possession requires the host to die in order to release the spirit again." _

* * *

_**To:**_ _Editor of The Daily Prophet_

_**From:**_ _Rita Skeeter_

_How dare you allow Abernathy to write such a droll and boring report of what happened at Hogwarts! Why wasn't I allowed to cover it! You know I'm a better writer than that bookish fop! I could have brought in millions of readers with that story!_

* * *

_**From:**_ _Barnabas Cuffe, Editor_

_**To: **__Rita Skeeter, Reporter_

_Abernathy has been covering Auror news for the last fifteen years, something you have shown absolutely no interest in. They were called in, and he was allowed to cover it. _

_Reporting about Hogwarts while onsite has been forbidden without Auror escort as you well know._

_You will not interfere with Abernathy's reports._

* * *

Alastor Moody glowered blackly at Snape, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave the Dark wizard the look that normally sent friend and foe alike diving for cover.

Snape, however, simply crossed his arms across his chest and somehow managed to billow impressively even while standing still.

Snape, he had heard, had recently taken on a young apprentice, and he didn't like it one bit. To think that an impressionable child could be shaped and moulded by Snape of all people— it made his mind reel back in outraged horror.

Death Eater.

Worst of the worst of people.

How could Dumbledore ever _allow _such a—

A—

"Master?" the girl asked. She looked up at Snape with a hopeful expression. Her hand was curled around the edge of his robes. "May I work on the bug zapping ward?"

Snape sniffed, looking down at her. "You may. But you must keep it centered around this room. Doing otherwise will drain your energy excessively."

"Okay!" The girl didn't seem to mind the dour man's scowl at all. She plopped down into a seat nearby and pulled out her wand, calling on her magic to form a ward.

Wards?

At _her _age? She couldn't be more than twelve at the most!

Impossible!

Snape knelt down and took her hand in his, gently guiding her motions until she could do them herself. He recited the Latin little by little, and she built upon it until she could say the phrase completely.

A warm rush of magic signalled the rising of the ward.

"Good. Now break it down and put it back up."

He released her hand and gestured for her to continue.

Snape watched her for a while and then looked up again, his lip curling in disdain as he stared back at Moody.

She had—_touched _him.

He had allowed her to touch him.

Alastor felt the bile rising in his throat.

"Is there something you need to get off your chest, Auror Moody?" Snape asked, his voice a rumble of distant thunder.

"You're a Dark wizard!"

Snape raised a brow at him. "I believe the Headmaster has said on multiple occasions that I am on _your_ side, as it were."

Moody snarled. "That doesn't make you any less a Dark wizard that shouldn't be trusted." He slammed his palms down on the nearby desk, startling poor Fawkes, who startled Helios, whose loud triple-bark started Hermione, whose spell to create the wards flashed with chaotic magic and blew outward in a blast of distressed intent.

Hermione clutched her head as a terrible scream filled the faculty lounge, and a woman dressed in loud, gaudy clothing crashed into Fawkes' perch (and Fawkes) and a very startled Headmaster Dumbledore.

Moody whirled, wand at the ready, seemingly torn between pointing it at Snape and the intruder who had materialised out of nowhere.

However, as the woman's arms were distinctively insectlike, Moody started to gravitate towards pointing his wand at the intruder instead.

As she was paralysed and unable to do anything other than scream, Alastor pointed his wand to her throat and cast a muffling spell, cutting her screams down to a dull roar.

"Well, well, Ms Skeeter," Moody said gruffly. "It seems I understand _now _why you always seemed to be in the right place for knowing things that you shouldn't."

Skeeter's eyes flicked toward Moody, fear filling them where arrogance once stood in abundance.

As Albus pulled himself off the ground and dusted himself off, he eyed Skeeter's paralysed body with consternation. "I don't recall having invited you to my school, Ms Skeeter."

Hermione shuffled closer to Snape's robes, shivering. "Did _I _do that, Master?"

Severus looked down at her with an arched eyebrow. "Not intentionally," he said with a furrowed brow. "I don't think anyone expected one of the insects plaguing our school to be a lurking reporter. I will admit, however, that the strength you put on your anti-insect ward may have been— just a touch overzealous."

Hermione looked at the paralysed Animagus. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, lass," Moody said with a grunt. "We've been trying to catch Skeeter here and figure out how she managed to sneak around undetected for years. It seems a bit obvious now, her being an Animagus— and unregistered, too."

Moody gave Snape an appraising look. Maybe he really was on "their" side. Still, it discomfited him to see the amount of trust the little girl had in the greasy old git.

"Your hair isn't much better," Hermione said shortly, her hand grasping onto Snape's wrist as she glowered at the Auror.

"Apprentice," Snape said.

"I'm sorry, sir," she apologised. "Your thoughts are extremely loud. And rude."

Moody's eyes widened. A Legilimens? At _her _age?

"Think of a calm day and a cool mirror lake. Dip yourself in it," Snape said, his expression not changing in the slightest.

The girl looked up at him resolutely, closing her eyes obediently. After a few minutes her eyes opened and she smiled at him. "They're _gone!_"

Snape nodded to her. "Whenever you feel overwhelmed, do the same thing."

Hermione smiled up at him. "Yes, Master."

Snape turned his head to stare at Moody, his face betraying nothing.

Dumbledore had Skeeter bound securely in what appeared to be a purple star-spangled dressing gown, the arms tied tight around her back like a Muggle straightjacket.

It was rather impressive, even if it _was _a tad disturbing.

Skeeter looked more disturbing though— caught somewhere in-between woman and beetle.

At least, he _thought _it was a beetle. It was so hard to tell twisted around like it was.

Moody couldn't help but notice the look Dumbledore was giving the girl— the girl rather than Snape himself.

Why the girl?

She seemed a bit naive, perhaps, but—

Moody noticed that the moment Albus realised he was being watched, his usual grandfatherly twinkle was back and he stopped staring at the girl, but the seed of suspicion was already planted. He noticed how the girl hid behind Snape's robes, very carefully placing herself behind him just enough to block the headmaster's gaze. She kept her hand somewhere on Snape— his robes, his wrist, even wrapping her small hand around Snape's unguarded thumb.

And Snape— let her.

Things weren't adding up here.

Things obviously weren't quite as they appeared.

Or perhaps— they weren't as he had _believed_.

The girl was helping the phoenix out from under the fallen globe and perch. Fawkes' feathers were in disarray after his tumble, and the bird looked utterly disgruntled. Still—

Fawkes opened his mouth wide for an offering of fruit, and the girl bit off a piece of plum and fed it to him piece by piece. The phoenix warbled, allowing her to pet his feathers back into order.

The phoenix was huge, though, and the girl was quite small in comparison. Her arms barely went around the bird, and he was apparently a lot heavier than his size suggested.

"You're pretty heavy, friend," Hermione said, giving him a fond pat.

Fawkes didn't show any sign of wishing to leave her embrace. He placed his head over her shoulder, giving Moody the amusing impression of a small child attempting to carry a holiday turkey meant to feed an entire family of twenty strong.

A combustible holiday turkey at that.

"Apprentice, you may wish to put the combustible feather duster down before he refuses to leave your embrace," Snape said. "I'm sure the headmaster would not appreciate having his familiar stolen away from him."

Hermione frowned but then brightened again. "Okay, Fawkes. I'll put you over here, okay?" She slowly shuffled over to one of the chairs and put the bird down on it.

Fawkes seemed sad that she let him go, making a mournful-sounding warble that filled Moody's heart with a profound longing.

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Aww."

She hugged the bird again, and Fawkes gave a contented warble of pure satisfaction.

"I think your bird needs a bit more attention, Headmaster," Snape said, distracting Fawkes with a large bunch of grapes to extract his apprentice from the bird's desire for additional cuddles.

"Headmaster, I will be calling in the other Aurors," Moody said, trying to put his mind back on the task of Rita Skeeter over what his eyes were noticing about the young witch in Snape's care— an obviously caring young girl who left impressions on even Fawkes.

And Snape wasn't abusing her—

No, if the girl actually had any fear of people, it was not of Snape— it was clearly Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, of all people.

What was he missing?

"Severus, you should take your apprentice away from here before the Aurors arrive en masse," the headmaster said. "This office will be a bit crowded then."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Snape said, pulling his robes over his shoulders. He swept from the room, robes billowing, and the girl followed him dutifully— something a bit rare for a child her age, they often placed their own independence over duty. Coming to Hogwarts was a time of wonder, and often that wonder erased reason as the child was swept away by the magic of it all.

Moody frowned. He had a lot to think about, and the mystery of the young Hermione Granger would have to wait.

* * *

_**Ah-KKKZZTT!**_

A black opal tumbled across the floor and thumped into Snape's boot.

"Bless you," he said, grading his scrolls. He placed it in the chest on his desk with the other sneezed treasures.

The fey-dragonet zipped about, every so often she'd stop and concentrate and—

_**Pop!**_

There would be two candlesticks instead of one.

Or two quills.

Or a second teacup— one that giggled as he drank from it by accident.

She seemed to find great pleasure in replicating objects around the quarters— and beyond.

Like going out to feed Helios and finding _two _giant three-headed hounds of the Underworld waiting for him.

Sometimes, he'd walk into class sporting a rather dashing tricorn hat with feathers, and his students would try very, very hard not to stare, knowing that to say anything at all would bring down his wrath in the form of perfectly legitimate reasons.

Technicalities, perhaps, but rules were rules, and Snape was hardly someone who would let the little heathens get away with stupidity. Even his Slytherins knew better than to commit acts of idiocy in class and thus bring more negative light to an already much-maligned house. People would still assume, of course. That was the nature of being a member of Slytherin house— to be scorned before they even did anything worthy of scorn.

At least his snakes knew better than to dare question his having taken an apprentice— or be stupid enough to provoke him into defending her. But Hermione did nothing out of line, she did everything she was required to do as his apprentice. There was nothing they could ridicule but her supposed blood status, and that—

That was just a _lie_.

Fey were perhaps the most magical of beings that ever walked the Earth— to split hairs on her not being a pureblood was downright laughable.

Still, he could hardly tell them the truth.

She was his little (very large) secret.

Hermione perched on his shoulder, singing sweetly, her warmth seeping into his neck and shoulder like a balm.

He reached up and rubbed her gently under the chin to earn himself a thrumming purr of approval.

"Time for bed," he said softly, giving her another rub under the chin.

Her soft snores revealed she already had— on him.

He plucked her off his shoulder and carried her over to her favourite nesting bowl, tucking her in her bed constructed of a combination of living moss and pilfered down. He placed one hand over her wings and smiled.

"Dream well, Hermione."

* * *

Summer seemed to come faster than ever before. So many things had been done and dealt with, that it made Snape's head spin with the novelty of it all.

Spinner's End was entirely gutted and refurbished, and they rented it out to a needy family whose only crime was in attempting to make a living in Cokeworth.

Severus and Hermione found themselves an run-down holiday cottage near the sea that had been abandoned by its original owners for whatever reason—

Severus suspected they didn't much like the biting flies and mosquitos, but—

Well, Hermione loved them— to _death_.

And Helios acted like a giant dog-shaped fly trap, and Hermione zipped around as she snapped up the flies and other insects until her belly was full. The bats and flycatchers happily took care of the rest.

The summer was surprisingly tolerable at the seaside, and Snape found himself with something he'd never in his life had before: an actual tan.

Hermione finished all of her lessons before noon, and her homework was already done before afternoon tea. In the late afternoon they enjoyed the seaside together, and Hermione would turn herself into everything from a shore crab, an otter, a seagull, or whatever else struck her fancy. By night, she'd bring up a fine haul of fresh seafood befitting royalty (albeit with a few otter-sized bites where her teeth had latched onto said seafood to haul it up), and they would have so much to share between them that they'd often invite Minerva over for dinner to help eat it all.

Not that Minerva was complaining.

Not one bit.

Even Helios seemed all too happy to switch to a seafood diet, even if they did have to enlarge it to appease all three hungry heads.

Severus had to admit watching the canine try to go after a giant rock lobster that had managed to avoid the cooking kettle was more than a little amusing. It looked like one of the old monster movies where claymation dinosaurs attacked each other or the classic mythical movies where the dashing hero had to fight the hounds of Hades, giant scorpions, and whatever other monstrous creatures the gods would deign to throw at them.

Though, watching the great dog go after the (poor?) lobster made him think more of some Godzilla spinoff: Cerbzilla versus Megalob.

He wondered what the old man was doing to guard his Philosopher's Stone now that the school was empty— was it _still _down there? Waiting for some other ambitious minion to attempt to claim it?

In the meantime, Hermione was "nesting" in Minerva's hair.

Minerva was laughing joyfully, some old pains in her life healed by the playful antics of one cheeky little dragonet.

The otters were quickly coming to shore, attracted by the large pile of remaining food, and Hermione flitted about, distributing shellfish equally to the hungry otters' obvious delight.

Hermione returned to Minerva's head, nesting in her hair like a dragonet-shaped helmet, her tail swishing back and forth like a leopard's, complete with a curl on the tip. As Minerva scratched under the fae-dragonet's chin, Hermione wrapped her tail around her finger tightly like a pinky promise.

Snape shook his head as Hermione had Minerva wrapped around her tiny claws faster than old Albus _ever _could— and unlike the headmaster, Hermione had no desire to use anyone.

Trick, yes.

Befuddle? Certainly.

Hermione wasn't a user in any way.

_**Thuuup!**_

Hermione was cuddled around his neck, her tail wrapped around him like an iridescent choker.

Okay, perhaps she was when it came to _one _thing— finding a living perch.

Hermione let out a thrumming, content purr as she snuggled into him. She was asleep in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Hermione's second year brought the walking migraine headache of the man whose sparkling teeth and eyes, perfect smile, and utterly pompous, self-serving ways gave Snape a terrible case of indigestion.

Gilderoy Lockhart entered the school with a parade of swooning young witches wanting to throw themselves at his feet.

Even more disturbing, Hermione, too, seemed distracted by the man— if you could even call him a man. Snape wasn't really sure _what _he was.

Well, other than the fact that he was supremely annoying.

Snape blamed the shiny factor. Hermione couldn't really help herself when it came to shiny things. He had a bookshelf with countless shiny things stashed in every free space behind the books, so much so that when he removed _Most Potente Potions_, an entire cascade of shiny baubles came tumbling out.

Much to his consternation and her mortification at having her "secret" stash discovered.

She still had a bit of learning to do on what made a secret stashing spot secret and not predictable.

Then again, he figured, she didn't exactly hide anything outside of her safety zone: their shared cohabitation.

Hermione's parents wrote her back to tell her that Professor Lockhart looked like a man who'd never worked hard in his life, and that seemed to make Hermione's obsession with his shininess take a hard turn to the right. So, she was back to normal, brewing things far above the ability of her peers and stuffing shiny objects in places she figured no one would ever dare to look— like his ear, his preservation jars, and even his teaching desk.

Insufferable little dragonet!

Where was she even _getting _all of that stuff, anyway?

The drawer packed full of phoenix down was pretty self-explanatory, but she had a cascading horde of things from rings, hair pins, bottle caps, and even some of Albus' trinkets he distinctly remembered seeing on his shelves and protected behind enchanted glass. That didn't even include broken strands of pearls, bracelets, and other things that seemed perfectly shiny but broken in some way— easily repaired had whoever cast it aside taken a moment.

His apprentice just _might _be a kleptomaniac—

Or a magpie.

Or maybe a bowerbird—

Maybe all of the above?

Severus opened up his storage closet door to collect ingredients for some personal brewing only to find himself literally buried alive in shiny objects that came tumbling out in a huge tidal wave of loot.

The pattering of student shoes met his ears shortly after.

"Uncle Severus?" Draco's startled voice broke the silence. "What the _hell _happened here?!"

Snape sighed, a goblet, coin, jewelry cascade falling off his body as he tried to stand up. "Language, Draco," he said dryly, picking a flawless ruby out of his collar.

Draco reached out to pick up one of the objects when Snape's hand clamped firmly onto his wrist. The boy looked at him fearfully, knowing from past experience that Snape would rather bathe in a pool of molten lava than touch someone unnecessarily.

Snape's vision shifted as he saw the poisonous Dark aura emitting from some of the objects: a jeweled crown, a golden goblet, a ring set with a strange black stone and a locket that looked like it came directly from the portrait of Salazar Slytherin himself.

He waved his wand, summoning a roll of charmed leather from the storage shelf to securely wrap the items even as he banished the other more benign treasures back into the storage closet from whence they came.

Snape levitated the bundle of lethally-cursed objects with a puzzled frown as he let go of Draco's wrist. "I need your owl, Draco."

Draco gulped and nodded sharply. "Of course, Uncle," he replied, rushing off to get his owl.

* * *

"I don't _believe _you, Snape," Moody snarled as he stormed up to the storage closet in question. "You seriously expect me to believe that your storage closet just magically spat out a bunch of cursed objects and you weren't involved in them getting there?"

Hermione shrank back from the Auror, hiding herself in Snape's robes yet again. She trembled, realising her secret stashing place had been discovered and that she might have been stashing things in there that she shouldn't have too— judging by Moody's snarling facade.

"I wouldn't—" Snape started to say, watching the angry Auror go for the door.

Moody flung open the storage closet door.

And he tumbled arse over teakettle to be buried alive in a multitude of shiny things.

_**Klip.**_

_**Klip.**_

_**BONK.**_

A crystal fishbowl landed on top of Moody's head, and a crystal fish bit his nose.

Hermione tried to bury herself deep in Snape's robes with a little more gusto.

All of the items were shiny, gaudy, or otherwise far too colourful for Moody to ignore.

"Okay, I admit these ruddy things are definitely _not _your style," Moody said a bit reluctantly, spitting out a crystal ornament done in Easter-like pastels.

Draco's owl hooted in avian amusement from the relative safety of his master's shoulder, looking rather impressed by the teetering mountain of shiny objects.

Draco pinched his beak closed. "Shh, Gwydion."

The owl ruffled his feathers.

Alastor wrinkled his nose. "And you, boy. You said you saw him open the door and all this— stuff— came tumbling out?"

Draco nodded. "It did to him what it did to you, sir," he said. "Swept him right out into the hallway. I ran up to help. I tried to pick up some of the objects, but he stopped me in the nick of time."

Moody missed the scowl Snape gave Hermione, and she hung her head, clutching his robes tightly, feeling quite ashamed of herself but also needing comfort— and comfort had always come from him. Her inner conflict seemed to tear her in two directions, but she decided that clinging to him was still the better option.

The irony was thick enough to choke on.

"So he _knew _they were Dark objects!"

Draco gave the Auror an annoyed look. "He'd be pretty stupid not to recognise an obviously Dark object. I'm twelve. He's not. He's the one who told me to fetch my owl to message you. It would be doubly stupid of him to summon an Auror to show off his own stash of Dark objects."

Alastor frowned, unhappy with the child's logic that was, unfortunately, quite sound indeed.

He ran his wand over the objects in the bundle and frowned. "Your magical signature isn't on any of them."

"_Ob_-viously," Snape replied dryly.

"Then whose are they?!"

"Not. Mine."

Alastor looked like he was going to tear out his hair. "I'm going to take these to the Ministry so we can have the DoM look them over. All this other stuff too—" He glowered at the shiny mountain of things. "No telling what else is in there."

"By all means, do," Snape said, scowling, "but I want all of my potion ingredients back. I will know if any of them are missing."

Moody sighed gustily. "Fine. Savage. Proudfoot. Contain this sodding mess and get it to the DoM on the double."

The two Aurors sighed together. "Yes, boss."

Moody folded his arms across his chest and glowered fiercely at Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes and glowered right back at him.

Draco eyed Hermione rather curiously, perhaps thinking that diving under the cover of Snape's black woolen robes was a sound tactic worth serious consideration.

* * *

Amelia Bones was perhaps the most intimidating of women without even having to stand up. Her magic was powerful but hidden behind a wall of iron control. Hermione could see it spark out of her aura every so often. Unlike her Master, her magic flared with her emotion in a very genuine manner. Her master hid his emotions to most everyone, appearing to her eyes like a mirror pool, reflecting what was around him rather than his own buried emotions.

Yet he was kind to her, supportive.

His concern for her health had coaxed the truth out of her that yes, she _had _been collecting things for quite some time and stashing them in his spare potions cupboard. He hadn't used it at all until the moment he'd decided to go in to fetch some random obscure ingredients—

And everything promptly came crashing down around his ears.

"Hello, Hermione," Amelia said. "Do you know why I am here?"

Hermione nodded silently. She was in _big _trouble. People in trouble always ended up with someone intimidating coming to call you out on it.

Amelia pulled out a parcel wrapped in leather, and she opened it. Inside was a shimmering ammolite. The Wizarding world thought them useless, but they were beautiful. They also had certain other purposes— but were useless to humans.

Hermione's eyes widened. "For _me_?"

Amelia nodded. "If this is acceptable to your master."

Hermione looked up at Severus with clear longing in her eyes. He nodded at her.

"You may."

Hermione took the gem in her hands, pressing her face to it. It glowed brilliantly. As she cradled it, it glowed even brighter, burst into a swirl of prismatic colours and merged with Hermione's body, casting her entire body with peacock-like sheen.

She beamed at Severus, smiling like she'd just taken a huge swig of Ogden's finest, wobbling a little.

"You may," Severus said, giving a small nod.

Amelia gasped as the young girl disappeared, and a small fae dragon appeared in her place. She purred, and rolled around, stirring up a prismatic cloud of magic, wings flapping, tail swishing. She zipped around Amelia's head like a hummingbird, inspecting her from all angles as she swirled and tumbled about in the air. Then she zipped back to Snape, curling herself around his neck and anchoring herself with her tail to his line of buttons, only her tiny head peeking out from under the fall of his black hair.

"Well, now that _does _explain the cupboard hoard of shiny things," Amelia said with a sheepish grin. "However did you gain her trust, Severus?"

Snape frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. "I don't really know. I ended up delivering her Hogwarts letter when Minerva was quite ill with the cat-flu. She— apparently found me acceptable."

Hermione's tail twisted around his buttons even more tightly, making it clear she wasn't going anywhere by choice.

Snape rubbed under her chin and gained a purr and pleasing warmth in return.

"She is extremely bright, eager to learn, and full of curiosity," Snape said. "She even knew the binding words for an apprenticeship without my telling her. She accepted it on the spot."

"Poor Alastor," Amelia said dryly. "This will utterly shatter his whole world. He will either have to accept that fae dragons can choose to align with Dark wizards, or he will have to admit that you are not anywhere near as evil as he believes you to be. Either will probably break his mind."

"At what point do you wish me to exit the scene when Auror Moody finally realises she truly fears Headmaster Dumbledore and what that implies about him?"

Amelia snort-coughed. "Oh?"

"He attempted to force me into breaking my apprenticeship bond with her when he learned of it," Severus said, a rare quirk of a smile on his face as Hermione flopped into his lap, belly up, inviting him to rub it as usual.

He obliged her, of course. It was only natural.

Amelia's eyes widened in amazement as she realised just how close master and apprentice already were— the trust was already so very close to unshakeable.

_If anyone dares get between these two, gods above and below,_ she thought to herself, _it will not end well._

Amelia looked at the little dragonet, her heart filled to bursting.

Hermione chirred, wriggling her legs in clear invitation.

Amelia extended a hand, looked at Snape, and then carefully rubbed her prismatic belly.

Hermione crooned happily, sniffed, and sneezed.

_**KERBONK!**_

A flawless egg-sized trapiche emerald thwacked into Amelia's forehead.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she buried her head in Snape's sleeve in shame.

Amelia rubbed her forehead as she picked up the emerald. "Is this—?"

Hermione's tail wrapped around the emerald and moved it closer to Amelia even as she burrowed more deeply in Snape's robes.

"That is for you, Amelia," Snape said, visibly amused. "Talk to Griphook at Gringotts, and he will assist you in converting it to a fair market price."

Amelia gaped. "You _can't _be serious— this would fund the DoM for well over a year with galleons to spare for side projects while paying off projects we have had waiting for years!"

_**CCCIIIIEEEK!**_

Hermione sneezed again, and an exquisite five carat red diamond hit the bookshelf and fell into the goblin silver tea service.

"You must be wearing perfume," Snape said, eyeing Amelia with weary tolerance. "Back to your human form, Apprentice," he said, coaxing her out of his sleeve. "Before your bury us in wealth."

Hermione sat in the nearby chair and took on her human form, looking a bit sheepish as she sneezed into a handkerchief. "Sorry, Master."

Snape picked up the red diamond from the tea service and placed it in front of Amelia. "Any other projects in need of funding?" he asked dryly.

Amelia looked wary touching the red diamond.

"You can have it," Hermione said. "Master says the DoM tends to get shafted the most in the Ministry. Maybe that will help—" She looked at Severus. "Grease the hands, as it were?" She wrinkled her nose. "Or was it gears? Wheels, maybe? Bother."

"I will be sure to speak with Griphook directly after I leave here," Amelia promised. "I wouldn't want to risk anyone else finding out about our sudden windfall. Much less the source of it."

"It is far easier to let the goblins take the blame for finding the wealth," Snape said with a sniff. "They actually _enjoy _being blamed for it."

Amelia chuckled. "I believe it. They take a percentage, yes? For the service? Even so, I'm sure it is far more fair than most would ever wish to admit."

"Goblins will show respect to those who give it," Snape said, rubbing his chin. "They loved her from day one," he added.

Amelia took Hermione's hands in hers. "You have done a very good thing here, Miss Granger. Thank you. And we'll keep your little hoarding addiction under wraps too. All I ask, my dear, is that you allow your master to examine all of your objects before you squirrel them away, okay?"

Hermione nodded. "Okay."

"Glorious," Severus said, wrinkling his nose.

"So, my dear," Amelia said. "How did you find all of those things?"

Hermione tilted her head. "They _sing _to me. The shinier or more magical, the prettier the song."

"But how do you get to them?"

Hermione frowned. "I just follow the song."

She scratched her head. "The other things— the Darkest things— sing in disharmony. I took them from where they were because they were making the other songs sound hideous when mixed together. They gave me a terrible headache. Master's cupboard silenced them, so I hid them all in there."

"Do you hear them now?"

Hermione nodded. "You should really put them back in Master's cupboard."

Amelia sighed. "I fear that is not a very safe solution. Perhaps your master could help us make a new cupboard somewhere else, okay?"

Hermione looked up at Snape. "I guess so, but does that mean we have to see the headmaster for permission again?" She unconsciously worried on Snape's robe sleeve, her hand balling into a fist.

Amelia smiled. "I will take care of it personally, okay?"

Hermione regained her smile. "Okay." She leaned into Snape's side with clear relief, which Amelia definitely did not miss.

"If you should find any other things that cause disharmony, Hermione, could you bring them to either Severus or myself immediately? But take care to not be seen."

Hermione seemed to ponder the request. "I could. Okay."

Amelia smiled. "Thank you." She sighed heavily. "I will deal with Alastor, Severus. I'm sorry he is being such a stubborn old sod over everything involving you."

Snape just shrugged. "He is a bulldog. To sink his teeth in and cling tightly to his preconceived notions is simply his nature."

Amelia chuckled. "Not all of his notions are wrong, but when they are, they are quite egregiously so."

Madam Bones rotated her shoulders and stretched. "I have something for the both of you. Should you ever need a quick entrance into the DoM." She pulled out a box from her robes and opened it. Two small gems sat on the velvet. "They are Portkeys to a fully stocked safe room hidden behind my bookshelf. You can stick them onto your master and apprentice circlets and no one will ever know the difference. No one will have access to that room but you, so you never need worry about running into someone there. There is an enchanted pane so you can see out and check if the coast is clear before exiting. I'll be alerted the moment you use it, so I can make my way there and clear the way for you."

Severus cast his wand over the gems, naturally suspicious.

"I swear to you that is all they are, Severus," Amelia said solemnly. "My word. My bond."

Severus met her eyes and then nodded. He picked up one gem and fastened it to Hermione's circlet then his own. "What is the passkey?"

Amelia's wicked smile spread from ear-to-ear. "Fudgesicle."

Snape snorted tea up his nose as Hermione frowned at him.

"Have something against Muggle frozen treats, Master?"

Snape shook his head, grinning despite himself. "No. Not at _all_."

Hermione made a soft chirring sound. "Okay."

* * *

_**Grand Opening of DoM Living Quarters and Arboretum**_

_Celebrate with us the grand opening and unveiling of long-awaited private residential quarters for singles, partners, and families alike. Thanks to a very generous donation from a party that wishes to remain anonymous, all current agents of the DoM are invited to apply for onsite housing. _

_Including in our new housing area is a general store, homestyle bakery and grocery, daycare, and a family clinic._

_A big thank you to those who donated their time and funds to help us bring our long-cherished dream to reality._

_Those interested in the housing units are welcome to visit during our open house this weekend. All applications should be owled to Mattias Shaw, DoM housing officer._

* * *

_**Gargoyles and Gryphons, Oh My!**_

_Please join us tomorrow in welcoming our new mated pair of gryphons that will be guarding the entrance to the Department of Mysteries as well as a new family of gargoyles who will be watching over our storage areas._

* * *

_**Memo**_

_**From:**_ _Amelia Bones, HBOY_

_**To: **__All, DoM_

_Haha. Very funny. Whoever put the lifesize doll of Dolores Umbridge in with the gryphon kits to rip to pieces was very clever. Madam Undersecretary Umbridge, however, was not amused. Please do not give her reason to oppose our gryphon family more than she already did._

* * *

_**To:**_ _Amelia Bones, Head Boss of Us_

_**From: **__Master Olivia Sykes-Mayhew_

_Amelia, those objects you brought us are Horcruxes. I believe they were created by You-Know-Who himself. They all have the same magical signature, but each one seems more unstable than the one before. They will need to be destroyed by Fiendfyre or a weapon imbued with basilisk venom. _

_I highly recommend locating them all quickly and destroying them at one time if there is any chance at all that YNW still exists in some form or another. If this is not the case, then you may have more time with which to find any others._

_I have preserved the signatures for tracing, but I fear it will not work unless we are close to whatever objects may still be out there. We also have no way of knowing how many more there are._

_We are placing the objects in a sphere of Fiendfyre. Any attempt to break into the holding facility will destroy the objects rather than risk allowing them to be taken._

_We can only hope that YKW did not make more than seven total, as seven is one of the closest significant magical numbers— as to how many he might have succeeded in making, at this point I cannot say for certain._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stared in total shock at the scene before him.

Fawkes was happily bathing in a very eerie-looking birdbath shaped like Moaning Myrtle holding up a stone basin complete with a remarkably ornate central fountain. The one-time ghost's mouth was open wide and frozen in mid-scream.

"So, you said you threw the "evil book" away here in the girl's lavatory, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, frowning slightly.

The red-headed witch nodded up and down, sniffling. "I didn't throw it, though. I tried to flush it away, but Moaning Myrtle zoomed up out of the toilet and started screaming at me."

"Was this—" Dumbledore rubbed his beard with his fingers. "Birdbath here when you first came in?"

"No, sir."

Dumbledore frowned again as he saw the ghost had a bright pink sapphire clasped between her ghostly teeth— but Myrtle was no longer a ghost. In fact, the longer he looked at what he _thought _was a ghost, he realised the grey colour was fading into an actual pinkish skin tone.

The gem, however, was fading into a ghostly form even while the former ghost was phasing back into rather spotty human flesh.

Dumbledore blinked as the gem faded away to nothing and Moaning Myrtle fell flat on her face, still petrified, but alive.

Fawkes seemed to sulk, having lost his brand-new birdbath.

Dumbledore quickly sent a Patronus to summon Poppy and the teaching staff even as he looked around for the "evil book" the youngest Weasley had sworn up and down was there.

By the time the other staff arrived on the scene, Gilderoy Lockhart had already tripped over the petrified Moaning Myrtle and slammed his head against the sinks, hands flailing about and grasping frantically at the faucets for purchase.

A cage with a snake inside it went flying from Lockhart's hands, having been carried from whatever class he had been teaching before answering the summons. It hissed as it bounced across the floor.

_**Creeeeeeeeeeeak… **_

The floor suddenly shifted, and the fountain moved as a great stone staircase opened up—

Leading down, down, down into the darkness.

Lockhart gave a startled yelp as he tumbled headfirst down the stairs into the all encompassing dark.

Dumbledore placed himself in front of a wide-eyed Ginny Weasley. "Filius, please escort Miss Weasley to the infirmary, I believe she could do with a bit of calming draught."

"Of course, Headmaster," Flitwick squeaked, quickly ushering Ginevra out of the lavatory.

"Poppy, Minerva— please take Myrtle to the infirmary as well," Albus directed. "As unlikely as it might seem, apparently an unknown curse of some sort rendered her solid just in time to be petrified."

Minerva and the mediwitch exchanged baffled glances. "Yes, Headmaster," they said, levitating the still form of Myrtle between them as they left.

"Severus, I want you to stay up here and make sure this entrance does not close," Albus said, summoning a light to follow him. He sent out a Patronus to to a destination known only to him.

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said, scowling as the old man went tromping down the stairs like the Gryffindors he favoured.

As Albus disappeared, Hermione peeked out from Snape's side.

_Hissss_.

A shrunken basilisk hissed from around her neck, a witch's hair ribbon bound around its eyes to keep its gaze under wraps.

"Shhh," Hermione said, cuddling the serpent's head against her neck. "Master says quiet time."

The basilisk tucked itself securely around her neck and hid in her mane of curls, transforming into a beautifully ornate silver choker with the Slytherin crest on it.

Hermione tugged on Snape's sleeve, looking rather distressed.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Can basilisks turn into chokers?"

Snape sighed. "That one clearly can."

Hermione's eyebrows knit together. She fidgeted, another question boiling inside even as she knew Snape was busy with his task.

"Ask your question," he said softly, startling her.

"Do you want that awful, obnoxiously off-key leather book now or later?"

Snape blinked.

"Now?" he said, his tone half-questioning.

Hermione pulled out a soggy leather journal, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "It sings like a drunken troll, and it isn't shiny at _all_."

Snape pointed his wand at it, wrapping it up in a protective layer of charmed leather as his shoulders quaked and a deep baritone laugh echoed in the lavatory.

His apprentice had turned Moaning Myrtle back into a flesh and blood witch (albeit by sneezing out a gemstone and Myrtle taking it without permission), tamed a cranky (and lonely) basilisk when it had come out to attack after hearing Myrtle's moaning, and found the next Horcrux… and all before dinner time.

His hand pressed into her wild curls. "I think you've earned the dessert of your choice tonight, Apprentice."

Hermione brightened and pressed close to his side, feeling far more inclined to wait quietly when dessert was on the line. Her small hand curled around his wrist like the warm curl of her tail, and she sighed contentedly.

Whenever her master was near, she felt like she could do anything, even wait patiently without asking questions.

She smiled up at him, and while he did not say anything, she saw the slight quirk of his lips that signalled he was proud of her.

She basked in that revelation as she idly wondered what the next year at Hogwarts would bring when her second year had already held so much drama.

She smiled to herself. Her master would be there with her. Whatever came their way, they would face it together.

* * *

**End of Chapter One**

* * *

**A/N:** This was posted after a bit of a delay due to working on my SSHG Giftfest entry. This was also supposed to be a one-shot, and well, we all know how I utterly _fail _at that—

Please thank **The Dragon and the Rose** for getting out the whip and keeping me on task because after having a rodent decide to eat the electrical harness of my vehicle while all the bills come due at the same time, I've been one hot mess of distraction!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **[HG/SS] AU/Crack: Severus Snape has to deliver the acceptance letter to the Granger home thanks to Minerva being sick with the cat flu. He has no idea how this one event will change his life forever.

**Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard, and the visiting flyby, dragged in, lured off her knitting podcast, Worrywart

**Warning:** Dastardly deeds committed by someone. Utterly heinous in nature. Consider yourself warned.

* * *

**Big Things in Small Packages**

**Chapter Two**

_You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it._

**Robin Williams**

* * *

"Hello there, little one," a voice called down from below. "Could you, perhaps, share with us your grand haul? This is the only patch of glow pods on this side of the forest."

The young fey dragon popped her head out of the pile of glowing pods she had stuffed into a tree hollow and looked down with a chirr.

Centaurs milled out below her carrying baskets.

"I am Magorian," a chestnut centaur called from below. "I lead the centaur here in the forest. "This is Bane, Firenze, and Ronan—" He jutted his head at the other centaur stallions. "Starchase, Sunfall, Steadfast, and Sunspot."

The fillies and foals nickered in protest at being forgotten.

"And this is Juniper, Belle, Brightfoot, Clover, Racer, and Leafsmack."

Hermione cocked her head at the last name.

The foal lowered his head in shame.

Magorian chuckled. "We are often named twice— the name we are born with and the name we earn by some trait or deed that we become known for. Leafsmack has a habit of running straight into tree foliage."

Leafsmack whickered sadly.

Hermione flitted out of her hollowed out stash and used her body to cascade a rain of glowing pods out of the tree. It rained glow pods, and the foals frantically tried to catch them in baskets.

The centaurs' eyebrows raised as far more pods came out of the tree hollow than should have fit.

The little fey dragonet clung to the side of the tree looking slightly apologetic even as even more pods rained down.

And more.

And even more.

And apples.

And pinenuts.

And acorns.

And persimmons.

And more glow pods.

And colourful gourds and squash— one of which bonked Bane on the head.

Hermione chirred in embarrassment.

Magorian let out a loud bellow of laughter. "Thank you, my little friend. Won't you come down and allow us to greet you properly?"

Hermione fluttered down, zipping around each centaur to inspect them individually before landing on Magorian's outstretched arm.

Magorian smiled, using his thumb to rub under her chin and behind her frills.

Hermione purred happily, all her frills shaking with pleasure.

"Thank you for sharing your spoils, my friend," Magorian said. "We appreciate your generosity. You are welcome amongst us anytime."

Hermione warbled happily. She curled her claws around his arm and tugged at him, leading him.

Magorian allowed himself to be guided through the forest, even as half of the centaur remained behind to gather up the (still raining) food.

Hermione led him to a large oak tree, and she hopped over to the trunk and dug her claws in. The bark pulled away exposing another hollowed-out area full of stashed goodies. Perfectly preserved dates, figs, mangosteens, coconuts, and more filled the hidden hidey-hole. Stashed amongst them were shiny wrapped candies with the Honeydukes' label on them as well as a number of glossy Muggle packages filled with lemon sherbets.

Magorian burst out laughing, hugging the little dragonet tightly. "I dub thee Glimmer amongst us, little friend. You may have other names, but this one is yours here with the herd."

Hermione warbled, crests waving in approval.

* * *

Hagrid looked up at the ceiling as he nestled in to sleep and saw a large acorn wedged between the thatch of his roof. He'd heard scratching night after night and had assumed it was birds picking and pecking around or bats trying to wriggle between the tiles.

The acorn was an oddity.

It gleamed, almost sparkling, as if it was magical instead of an acorn.

Hagrid sighed, sitting up and then rubbing his eyes. He stood up and reached out to take the offending acorn out of his roof.

Pluck!

Hagrid's cry of surprise was muffled by about a metric ton of stashed forest nuts that came careening down from his roof, burying him.

The chipmunk that had been walking by the door to Hagrid's hut squeaked as Christmas came early, and it frantically tried to stuff acorns into its cheek pouches and carry them off.

Only Hagrid's head stuck out of the huge pile of acorns.

"Um. Help?" Hagrid cried, unable to even _move_.

Barking like mad, Fang went running off toward Hogwarts.

* * *

Albus walked by the gargoyle that guarded his office to take a walk, but he did not notice the mini-gargoyle perched on top of the larger gargoyle's head. Bright, prismatic eyes watched him leave before a blur of colour zipped into his closing office door.

* * *

Snape blinked a few times as he stepped into the liberally expanded former closet he had designated for Hermione's use as her own personal storage bin. His eyes looked one direction and then another as neat piles of shiny things awaited his "approval."

Having cut down on the amount of approving he had to do by allowing edibles to be stored without his direct permission, he realised that Hogwarts was not exactly helping the shiny-seeking fey dragonet's incurable hoarding addiction.

There were things upon things upon _things _stashed in the room—

Some of them even had the distinctive gaudy look of the headmaster's own rather questionable taste in fashion— fashion that seemed to belong to some bygone age where gold tasselled lampshades and crimson crushed velveteen were both quite commonplace.

Snape sighed.

"Apprentice."

Hermione chirred from his shoulder, her tail snugly tucked around his neck.

"Did you happen to find yourself in the headmaster's office by chance?"

Hermione hung her head guiltily.

Snape rubbed her chin. "Well, maybe he will acquire some better taste in fashion and decorative— whatever in Merlin's name _this _is."

Snape tilted his head. "In the future, try not to make the headmaster suspicious. I do not wish for you to gain his attention. It could be terribly dangerous for you."

Hermione rubbed her head against his cheek in agreement. She zipped into the pile of things and vanished completely.

Snape frowned.

Her head poked out from an otherwise empty space.

He reached out to touch her, and he felt her warm body moving out from under something. It felt like— some kind of sheer cloth?

He pinched it with his fingers and lifted, and a pile of other trinkets tumbled out from under it, the little fey dragonet squeaking with glee as she bodysurfed down the treasure pile.

Severus moved the "fabric" up his arm and watched his arm disappear from sight. "Well now," he said, his lips forming a thin line. "This certainly explains a great many things indeed."

* * *

"It's _got _to be Snape's fault," Ron hissed angrily. "He hasn't stopped watching us since!"

"How? We were _invisible_, Ron! There is no _way _he could possibly know anything!" Harry whispered back in a harsh protest.

"Then why does the old git keep bloody _staring _at us all the time!" Ron retorted.

"Look, just ignore him, alright?" Harry whispered. "I have a plan."

"Wut?" Ron blurted. "_What_ plan?"

"Would you be _quiet?!_" Harry hissed. "Shut it and listen, mate. Just— never mind." Harry stood up and took his books with him. "I'll see you later. I have something I need to do."

Harry stormed out, and Ron slowly turned to look at the Head Table where Snape was scowling in his direction. "Bloody Slytherin git."

* * *

"Bloody _**hell**_, Harry! Where did you— _**How **_did you— You weren't here a second ago!" Ron blurted.

"I've figured out how I'm going to get to cloak back."

"_**Brilliant!"**_ cried Ron. "But how?"

"I'm going to use the thing Dumbledore gave me to help out with my studies."

"What thing?"

"Look, I can't tell you what it is, mate, but I _promise _it's going to work."

"What's that in your hand?" Ron asked, seeing that harry was fiddling with something in his hand. He made a grab for it.

"Will you stop, Ron!" Harry yelled, snatching it away, continuing to adjust.

"I want to see it!"

"Ron, just let me—"

"I just want to _**SEE IT!" **_

"_**Ron!"**_

Ron lunged; Harry's hand jerked, and the little golden hourglass went spinning wildly as it tumbled through the air.

There was a swish of black fabric as the two boys saw a furious Snape towering over them.

The glittering golden pendant went careening directly at Snape's head.

_**Klinkkk!**_

A small prismatic blur collided with the tumbling object.

There was a short, terrified shriek as the object and the blur disappeared.

Snape turned deathly pale as his skin drained of blood. His breath caught sharply in his throat as he clutched at his head, his fingers touching the laurels of his master's circlet. The goblin silver burst into particles as the gems fell to the floor. Snape let out a low, tortured moan, his hands clawing at his neck. He hastily pulled off his cravat, gasping for air. The triple bay of a cerebus echoed through the very walls of Hogwarts, and the walls trembled as ancient magick surged up searching, seeking for the missing piece that had once occupied Hogwarts.

Snape sprawled on the ground, a splotch of black against the cold stone floor. His pale hands twitched as he tried to pull himself up but failed.

"H-ermione," he gasped. His fingertips touched the magical red diamond that had fallen from his circlet. His black eyes glazed over as the diamond disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Snape's hand fell lifelessly to the floor.

"Oh—" Harry said, his face paling in horror.

"Fuck," Ron added, his eyes very wide.

There was an explosion of blinding blue-white light as the moving image of a young black-haired wizard suddenly appeared, the boy clearly injured, his robes torn and schoolbooks scattered all over the floor.

"You alright there, Snivellus?" a mop-haired boy asked mockingly.

"Greasy git."

The pair took turns kicking the other boy while he was down, making sure the boy's wand was kept far from his reach.

"Nothing good ever came from Slytherin," another sneered— a short, ratty-looking boy with two front teeth that seemed better fitted to a rodent than a human. He giggled, then cast a spell that gave the fallen wizard a wedgie.

"What do you think, Remus?" the mop-haired boy asked, grinning madly. "What should we do with this greasy Slytherin git?"

"I dunno, James," Remus replied slowly. "He looks pretty uncomfortable."

"Let's make him _more _comfortable, eh?"

They used a series of spells until their victim slumped weakly to the floor, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "P-p-potter—"

"What's that, Snivellus? Can't hear you."

"I hate you."

"Awww, Snivvvellwuss hates us."

"_**I HATE YOU!"**_

The boys snickered as they pulled down a curtain and used magic to suspend the other boy in the air.

"You used permanent sticking charms on your posters at home, right Sirius?"

"Right, mate."

"Well, practice makes perfect, doesn't it?"

The boys levitated their victim up to the ceiling and stuck the curtain to the rafters, forming a makeshift hammock.

"Have a nice _rest_, Snivvellwuss," James heckled.

The boys cackled meanly, leaving the hallway.

The boy in the curtain hammock winced, coughing harshly. He groaned as he held his own arm, then winced again as the movement caused him even more pain. A whorl of golden magic opened up and a multi-coloured dragonet was dumped out into the boy's lap.

The little dragonet whimpered in pain even as the young boy whimpered with his own.

The pairs' eyes met.

"Hello, you," the young wizard said, wincing. He carefully extended his hand to touch his unexpected visitor.

The multi-coloured dragonet crawled into the crook of his arm, her tail wrapping securely around his thin limb like an anchor.

"You're _so _beautiful," he whispered in awe.

The dragonet crooned, nuzzling under his chin as the golden ancient magick swirled around them and bound them together in a cocoon of healing light.

_Bound together_

_In a future time._

_Found again_

_In a past paradigm._

_The bond they share,_

_We will preserve._

_The trust they'll have,_

_That they deserve._

_Future rewritten._

_The past forgot._

_Change what was_

_To what aught._

_Selfish desires_

_Hurled her back,_

_But selfless love_

_Shall right the track._

_Together they were_

_Meant to be._

_Bound as one,_

_Forever free._

As the warm, golden magic slowly dissipated, the young Snape curled up in the makeshift hammock, his prismatic new friend snuggled tightly up against his body, tucking herself between his arm and body as her head rested against his neck. Their wounds took on a radiant glow as they mended together.

Snape snuggled into his newfound companion, hugging her against him like a beloved plush toy. He buried his nose against her warmth.

He would recall countless years later that it had been the first time he had ever slept feeling comforted that things were finally going to work out at long last.

* * *

As the years passed, the Marauders inexplicably found themselves stymied at all corners of Hogwarts.

Their treasured map had a large pile of flaming rainbow poop in the middle of it, and the only names that showed up now were those of the Hogwarts house-elves. The invisibility cloak would seem to work to the Marauders but everyone else could see them, at least around Hogwarts. Their things would move around. Their bookshelves would end up in pristine alphabetical order that shocked them if they attempted to put a book in the wrong place.

Their candies would fart in their faces whenever they took a bite.

Angry purple unicorns would chase them across the grounds, but when they ran towards others, yelling for them to run for their lives, they only stared at them like they were totally mental and continued to loaf on the green.

Dark dragons loomed in the hallways, breathing flames, but when they screamed for help from the staff, nothing was there and they were given detention.

Their shirts and trousers would turn into frilly blouses and skirts the moment they stepped into class, and their robes somehow couldn't conceal the changes no matter what they did, much to their classmates' amusement and giggling.

Sometimes, their clothing would grow to be three times their size, and their outer robes would billow as if by some invisible wind, even as their socks and shorts became painfully tight and constricting and their ties bit them randomly, making them curse out loud in class, earning them detention.

Had they actually thought about it, perhaps they might have realised that such unfortunate things only happened to them right after they attempted to "prank" others, but they stubbornly continued to attempt to get ahead only to fall behind further and further each time.

Worse—

The bushy-haired new transfer student refused to even give them the time of day, ignoring and foiling them at all attempts to get the upper hand on her. Worse, Snivellus seemed to be the only one who could get close to her, and since she was apprenticed to Madam Pomfrey, of all people, she lived in quarters behind the infirmary with her master.

She was _untouchable_.

And yet somehow Snivellus was allowed into that protective bubble of Madam Pomfrey's legendary wrath.

Even worse, Lily was paying even more attention to Snivellus now that his attention wasn't on her.

It was a nightmare that the Marauders couldn't quite seem to fix, and they were determined to make it right.

Snivellus _deserved _it.

* * *

"Good morning, Severus," Hermione greeted him as she delivered a breakfast tray to one of the patients.

"Hi," he replied, flushing as she smiled at him.

"Are you here to talk to my master?"

He shook his head. "Actually, I thought maybe we could study together before class?"

Hermione beamed. "I'd love to. Did you decide if you want to become a potions apprentice?"

"Do you think Madam Pomfrey would really be okay with having two apprentices?"

Hermione chuckled. "She asked, didn't she?"

Snape flushed. "I guess. I think I was expecting maybe Slughorn—"

"You don't even like him."

"He's an imbecile."

"Severus!"

Snape sighed. "I guess I forgot that healers really have to know their potions too."

"They just don't have much time to brew them anymore, I think," Hermione said. "People keep getting sick and hurt all the time."

Severus rubbed his head. "I'd have to leave Slytherin."

Hermione tilted her head. "Real friends should always be there for you regardless of where they live."

He winced. "I always saw myself as Slytherin."

Hermione shrugged. "You can do whatever you feel is right, Severus. What you really want. It's about your life and future career, you know? Anyway, you'd still be a Slytherin, just with a new address."

Snape snorted at that. "I guess you're right. _You're _still an insufferable Gryffindor."

Hermione huffed, setting another breakfast tray down for a patient.

Snape smiled. He shuffled his feet, looking down. "You'd be okay sharing a cramped apprentice quarters with me?"

Hermione grinned. "It's not quite as small as you think."

Snape perked. "Really?"

Hermione beamed. "Why don't you accept and find out?"

"Are you sure you're not Slytherin?"

Hermione poofed into her fey dragon form and zipped into his hair and curled around his neck, her colours shifting to look like his uniform.

"Hey, Sev," Lily called from the door. She had an unattractive scowl on her face. "Let's go study before class, okay?"

Severus looked down, conflicted, but Hermione tightened her grip around his neck and snuggled in closer. "Coming, Lily."

As he rushed to catch up with Lily he muttered, "Should have been Slytherin, _definitely_."

* * *

Something rather odd was going on at the school, Dumbledore decided.

He couldn't read the Snape boy's thoughts anymore. Where once it was so very easy, now it was like trying to read individual drops of water in a rushing river or leaves in a windstorm.

Lily, on the other hand, was still an easy read even without the use of Legilimency.

But Snape—

Whenever he'd try to do a scan of the boy's thoughts, he'd get a blast of utter strangeness like stampeding herds of pegai, dancing giant squids, or whomping willows playing cricket.

He didn't understand how it was even possible.

Children should not possess a talent for Occlumency. Even if they _did _have a remarkably guarded mind, it shouldn't be giving him such strange and disquieting thoughts.

Then, there was the increase in unfortunate incidents involving the Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew boys when before he'd believed they were merely boyish pranksters. Only, recently—

They seemed to be the ones constantly causing trouble in quiet halls, peaceful greens, empty classrooms, and even their own dormitories.

They also seemed to be unnaturally fixated on the transfer student— another mind he could not read without getting a mind full of fluff. _Literally _fluff. Images of soft cotton, dandelion heads, fluffy kittens, down, fur, wool—

Surely the girl wasn't so airheaded that all she thought of was fluff?

He sighed and slowly walked down to the dungeons.

Slughorn had informed him that the Snape boy had just accepted an apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey. Poppy already had an apprentice, but apparently she felt she could take on two at once. He wasn't happy about it— there was something decidedly odd about the pair that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

The strange new girl had no past, yet her name had been recorded in the book. No history. No lineage. Just Hermione Granger.

It was all terribly mysterious— and he didn't like being on the receiving end of a mystery.

Poppy said that her old friend Hector Dagworth-Granger had taken the girl in after a distant cousin of his, Edgar, had died in a tragic accident— both he and his wife, Claire. Hermione was supposedly related to him—

Albus just wasn't quite sure what to believe.

Maybe it was because Snape seemed so much more comfortable now, and in that he was far less easy to influence. He had been hoping to groom him slowly to the point where the boy would see him as his sole benefactor— but bloody Poppy had totally ruined that. He had planned to get Slughorn to lure him into his little club and collect him, get him apprenticed after he sat his N.E.W.T.s. Then, he'd feel obligated—

But no, he was already apprenticed now.

He had been successfully grooming the Gryffindor boys to take care of Remus Lupin, so he could be made useful later, but now he was starting to think that perhaps the boys weren't very capable of keeping Lupin suitably under wing.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the slight tingle of his senses as his foot connected with a hidden tripwire and a large branch stolen from the Whomping Willow smacked him square in the face, knocking him flat on his arse and down the stairs— stairs that were coated liberally in bacon grease.

"You alright there, Snivellus?" some very familiar voices chuckled maliciously.

"Did it hurt?"

"I really hope it hurt."

"Now you really _are _the greasy git that everyone knows you are."

"Innit right?"

_So_, Albus thought grimly, _this is likely the reason young Snape learned to guard his thoughts so well. A pack of tormentors stalking him. Perhaps that is what drove the Granger witch to protect herself as well—_

_Still, it is an odd kind of protection._

Albus slowly and painfully sat up from where he had tumbled, and the collective shocked gasps of Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew heralded the End Times for the group of malicious pranksters.

"_**Aw, fuck me!"**_ Sirius blurted in horror.

"_**We got the bloody Headmaster!" **_Peter wailed shrilly, looking for all the world like he was prey and there were a hundred-some predators watching and waiting for him to so much as _twitch_.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, famed vanquisher of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, stood up and dusted himself off before fixing the malicious pranksters with a baleful stare that held no trace whatsoever of his famous twinkle. "My office, gentlemen. _Now_."

He waved his wand, and the thick coating of grease on the stairs promptly disappeared.

The four boys seemed to melt into the ground as they slunk off toward the headmaster's office with their figurative tails between their legs.

As the gawkers stared and gaped in shocked disbelief, Madam Pomfrey herded her two apprentices (both laden with trunk and parcels) in front of her toward their shared infirmary quarters.

* * *

_**Kzzzt!**_

Hermione hung her head in shame as a perfect red beryl bonked Severus upside the head.

"Bless you," Severus said, placing his hand over her head.

Hermione cuddled against his warm hand with a croon, her tail wrapping neatly around his wrist.

He cuddled her against himself as he placed the deep red gemstone into a small box with the Gringotts logo on the desk. The gem disappeared within a seeming black hole with a _**pop**_.

Hermione purred, exposing her vulnerable belly for rubs, and Severus found himself doing so even as he read his textbook out loud. The dragonet hummed her approval.

"You're such a sucker for attention," Severus tutted amusedly.

Hermione, much like a feline, did not deny it but instead sprawled even more possessively against his arm.

"Hey, Sev," Lily's voice came from the door.

_**FOOP!**_

Hermione disappeared in a panicked whoosh of camouflage.

Snape frowned as the soothing warmth of the dragonet disappeared. He looked up with an annoyed huff.

"We're still studying together, right?" Lily inquired eagerly.

Severus just grunted noncommitably.

"I have this really _great _idea for my potions project."

Severus arched a brow. "And?"

Lily huffed at him. "Blemish remover."

"Been done."

"A _better _one, for spots and freckles too."

Severus tilted his head to regard Lily. "You _do _realise that Madam Pomfrey already has this in her arsenal, yes? She's had to rid students and staff of all manner of unsightly skin complaints like warts, pitting acne, dragon pox scars, hippogriff rash, yodeling boils and more."

"It isn't available to everyone!"

"It is if they simply ask for it," Severus countered.

Lily scowled. "I want this to be something that every single witch should have in her beauty arsenal."

_Plink!_

"_**OW!"**_

Lily yelped and rubbed her head as a large horse chestnut suddenly pegged her on the head. She looked up and around, frowning when no culprit could be found.

"_**WHAT THE HELL, PEEVES?!"**_ Lily screeched furiously.

Madam Pomfrey stormed into the study area from the infirmary, an irritated scowl on her face. "Miss Evans, I am going to ask you to leave my infirmary at once."

"But I—"

"_Now_."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Lily bit out, flushing bright red with mingled embarrassment and anger. She grabbed up her potions book and stormed out in a huff.

Poppy sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Merlin, what was _that _all about?"

_**Fffffip!**_

A blur of frolicking fey dragon zipped back and forth around Poppy's head.

Poppy caught the playful little dragonet and cuddled her close. "Try not to disturb our recovering patients, my dear. I know it wasn't you, but causing silly young witches to lose their marbles is probably _not _helping our patients get sufficient rest."

Hermione cooed softly and hung her head in assent. She rubbed her head against Poppy's face before zipping back to curl herself around Severus' neck.

Poppy chuckled. "Be sure to finish your homework before any frolicking on the green, you two."

"Yes, Master," Severus said.

_**Chi-rir! **_Hermione replied.

* * *

_From: Alastor Moody_

_To: Aurors, All_

_Who the bloody fucking __**hell **__dumped a bunch of bleeding Horcruxes on my desk?!_

* * *

_From: Alastor Moody_

_To: Amelia Bones, HBoM_

_I can't explain it, but there are five bloody Horcruxes on my sodding desk. No one seems to know where the hell they came from. Are you trying to make me spontaneously combust? How am I supposed to get anything done when I can't even touch my desk? Who knows what range these damned things have— or what's guarding them._

* * *

_From: Amelia Bones, HBoY_

_To: Alastor Moody_

_Having you spontaneously combust would hardly be helpful to anyone. What do you __**mean **__there are five Horcruxes on your desk?_

* * *

Amelia's eye was twitching, and she had no idea what to do about it.

It had only been a few years since she had taken on the massive fuster cluck that was the Department of Mysteries, and it seemed like Alastor Moody was trying to single-handedly make her lose her ever-loving _mind_.

Horcruxes.

There were bloody Horcruxes on his desk.

Not legend or myth, either. No, these were the real thing mixed in without about a metric ton of random shiny things, Dark artefacts, shinier things, Dark-_er_ artefacts, the shiniest things short of the sun, and Horcruxes (arguably the Darkest of the Dark, Dark _any_thing that anyone could potentially run across).

It was hard to catch a break.

No one wanted to pay anyone for what they were worth.

The Ministry had a real problem paying Unspeakables because they couldn't actually know exactly what they were paying _for_. To tell an entire Ministry would defeat the entire purpose of being an Unspeakable in the first place—

They didn't have the money for budgeting housing— something they desperately needed to keep the Unspeakables and their families safe.

She left a pair of her best agents with Alastor to both keep him from spontaneously combusting and flying off the metaphorical handle at the same time.

There was a distinct tingle in her wards—

The wards she had in her secret rooms— the safe rooms. The ones you could only access by Portkey.

Only the Portkey itself hadn't even been created yet. It was but a mere concept at this point. Only on parchment. In her head—

She rushed into her office, her wand out. She hit the bookshelf secret latch in the fishbowl, ignoring the fish's rather disgruntled glare.

The bookshelf slid open. She pointed her wand at the hidden door. "Alohomora!"

What seemed like approximately five metric tons of _every_thing promptly spilled out of the room— vases, candles, jewelry, figurines, toys, quills, plates, platters, goblets, tea tins, cutlery, chocolate frog cards with the ultra-rare shimmering gold foil trim… and a vast hoard of gaudy gems, sparkling gems, priceless gems, fake gems, astral sand vials, time sand vials, time-turners, hourglasses, geodes, brain-flower pollen grains, unicorn hair, dragon saffron stamens, fairy wings both with and without the fairies still attached, pearls, assorted eggs, seashells, crystals, chandeliers, beads, and—_ohhhh_ Merlin_,_ was that really a pristine first edition of _Hogwarts: A History_?

Amelia sat down hard, utterly gobsmacked.

What in the bloody blue blazes was going _**on **_here?!

_**Kzzztt!**_

A flawless egg-sized red diamond bonked Amelia squarely on the forehead.

She rubbed her head slowly, wincing, as she felt the warm gemstone in her hand. It pulsed with tremendous magical power even as it sparkled as though the sun itself was reflected in its facets. It was perfectly "cut" as if by a master goblin jeweler to resonate with the magic held captive within.

Amelia looked up to see a small fey dragon peering out at her from the top of one of the vases, its prismatic eyes very wide.

"Hello there, little one," Amelia said softly, trying carefully not to sound either stupid or angry.

The dragon slid down a pile of coins and stepped onto her knee.

_**Squeak?**_

"Is this for me?"

The little dragon nodded.

"Do I know you?"

The dragon tilted its head and made an oddly conflicted face. After a moment, she picked up a time-turner in her mouth and placed it in Amelia's palm. The turner itself was clearly broken, the sand having long since escaped, but the date was—

Amelia sighed deeply. "Ah, so I knew you— in the future?"

The fey dragon shook her frills and lay her head on Amelia's wrist.

Amelia rubbed her finger gently against the dragon's frills. "There is obviously much more to you than meets the eye, my dear."

The door opened and the dragonet poofed and disappeared in a wisp of magic.

"Ma'am, Alastor is looking for yo—" The messenger tripped on a vase and went sprawling face first into a pile of tea tins.

Amelia waved her wand, closing the secret door and bookshelf with a scowl. "Mr Beachum. Your inability to follow instructions after being told repeatedly that you are _never _to enter my office without my permission means you have gotten on my very last nerve. You are to report to the Portkey office at once and transfer out to the Giza cotton fields. Master Mahmoud will be expecting you. Now get the hell out of my office."

Amelia's face darkened. "_Obliviate."_

There was no _way _she was going to expose the poor fey dragon to the likes of Marcus Skeeter Beachum, whose tongue was notoriously loose and whose desire to gossip was unmatched by any bored house-witch she had ever known. Thankfully, there were countless other reasons, all of which were in writing, to transfer the insubordinate imbecile to the Giza outpost to make sure the Maruvian Cotton Fairies remained protected from the hordes of Gizan fairy poachers.

Mr Beachum coughed and spit out a shiny tea ball. "What happened?"

"Congratulations on your transfer."

* * *

Hermione cautiously peered over the rafter, her tail looping and unlooping as she watched Lily and Severus studying together. She gnawed on a pinecone, stripping the protective layers away from the plump pine nuts within. She chewed up the pine nuts until they were all eaten then let the stripped cone drop.

_Bonk._

"_**OW!"**_ Lily looked up, glaring daggers at… nothing.

Severus didn't look up, his lips curved slightly upward so he quickly hid the amused expression behind his hand.

Lily tried to flip to another chapter.

_**Crik. Crick. Crikikik. Crunch-crunch-crunch.**_

_Bonk._

Lily stood up, pointing her wand in search of the unseen offender. "_**IMMOBULUS!"**_

A stunned bat crash landed on Lily's head.

"_**EEEEEEEEEEE!"**_ Lily shrieked at the top of her lungs.

She frantically beat at her head and body to rid herself of the unfortunate mammal trapped in her long red hair.

The dark spectre that was an absolutely _livid _Madam Pince stormed through the library with a silent screech on her thin lips. She grabbed Lily up by the collar of her robes and frog-marched her out of the library despite her vociferous protests.

Severus stayed seated at the desk, flipping a page in the book he was reading.

_**Zip!**_

A warm body promptly wrapped itself around his neck as a tiny tongue licked his earlobe.

He rubbed her body with his fingers as he tilted the book up so the now-purring dragonet could read the pages along with him, a smug smile plastered on his face.

* * *

A highly enthusiastic dragonet was mauling a durian to access the succulent fruit within the armoured shell. Snape wrinkled his nose at the smell that came from the broken shell but couldn't help but smile as Hermione pillaged the golden fruit on the inside, making happy nomming noises.

"Wherever did you get that monstrosity?" Snape asked, his nose tingling.

Hermione chirred and nosed the halved durian over to him.

Severus gave her a dubious, highly suspicious look.

She nipped his finger, giving him a draconic glare that seemed to say "try it, you dunderhead."

Snape sighed, sliced a piece off the soft yellow innards and put it in his mouth, chewing as if expecting turpentine. His eyes widened as the taste blossomed into something enjoyable. "This is good."

Hermione shook her frills at him.

Severus pulled the dragonet close to him, snuggling her tightly. "You're amazing."

Hermione crooned blissfully.

* * *

Severus wasn't sure how it happened. His life had gone from torment to some sort of schooling dream-world— where he had a master that cared for him and a friend who never failed to be on his side, study with him, and didn't seem to give a flying fig about popularity.

Lily was trying to spend more time with him, but he felt that it was more about getting ahead on her studies than about friendship.

Hermione, on the other hand, seemed more than happy to spend just as much time with him as he wished to, often snoozing around his neck as if he was the comfiest napping spot _ever_.

He actually found it hard to concentrate when she wasn't there— and he only had to have her in the next room or curled up in a chair nearby— as it seemed strangely lonely now without her warm presence.

And at night, no matter if they went to bed separately, the warm dragonet would sneak under the covers and burrow her way into the crook of his arm with a happy little sigh. No matter how fitful his sleep might be normally, he fell asleep almost instantly with her there by his side.

It was made utterly amusing in the morning when he woke having drooled on her, but she remained obliviously on her back, feet up in the air, belly exposed as her soft snores vibrated his arm.

For the first time in his life, he had money in the bank— and more than enough to pay for whatever he might want. The goblins had all too happily created for them a shared banking account at Gringotts, complete with a portable deposit box in which to spirit away Hermione's highly coveted sneezed gems and metals.

The goblins seemed perfectly willing to bend over backwards to assist them in setting a more than fair contract with them taking a small cut for converting the gems to galleons—

And Merlin's beard there were a lot of those— especially after Hermione accidentally snorted ground dragon pepper.

A young goblin named Griphook said they would slowly filter the gems into the market so they wouldn't lose their value, but not to worry. The gems were in great demand globally, so what didn't get sold in Britain could easily be sold to eager collectors of rare gems in Japan or the United States, and the more "Muggle" gems that only had minor magic held within easily found their way to places such as Sotheby's and the rising technology market for rare earth metals.

Honestly, Severus had _no _idea all the uses and where certain things went, but the goblins did and were more than ecstatic to enter into what must have been a great financial partnership.

Also— Hermione was a real charmer, and she seemed to be the living skeleton key that led one into the goblins' most positive regard.

He knew better than to go splurging his new financial status, however. He wanted no fair weather friends or people who might find him interesting only for his money— or, more importantly, interested in how they had acquired it.

No, he was perfectly happy being able to get school supplies as he needed it, robes that fit him, and the occasional treat from Hogsmeade when Madam Pomfrey escorted them. Since the mediwitch took care of both of her charges' needs when it came to supplies and uniforms, it left them both in the position to spend their galleons with more freedom.

Poppy, he knew, was using her share of the apprentice-master earnings to provide improved supplies for the infirmary. She, too, seemed uninclined to reveal any change in finances lest people ask questions.

But what was the most surreal about all that had happened since he was apprenticed was that Potter and his merry band of wankers had finally decided to leave him well alone.

Well, after Madam Pomfrey had caught them trying to sneak into the infirmary in search of a little "justice" only to painfully discover that the mediwitch knew _exactly _where to aim her spells to effectively disable any would-be attacker.

Part of him still worried that they would find him as they always seemed to before.

Yet, now he had something he hadn't had before—

Hermione.

His scaly goddess of vengeance and petite draconic wrath.

If one could even consider a little dragon that could transform into a _very _big dragon (or whatever else) to be "petite"—

It was odd, though. There was the strong bond between himself, Hermione, and their master— but he felt far more connected to Hermione. She felt like home, or what he'd imagine home to feel like if he'd had one he actually wanted to go back to.

Thank Merlin he didn't have to go back to that hellhole ever again.

Being Madam Pomfrey's apprentice had the enormous benefit of him being able to stay with her and Hermione during all holidays. Hogwarts seemed particularly invested, having remade the infirmary to look more like a lush forest— fresh breezes, running water, and perfect humidity.

Flawless living potions ingredients now grew within easy reach for the utmost efficacy of potions.

However, Madam Pomfrey found herself having to tolerate Pomona Sprout's shenanigans with the herbology professor eagerly poking around their living infirmary.

At least until Hermione chucked about a hundred-some different rare seed pods at Pomona's head one day. The delighted witch couldn't get them back to her greenhouses fast enough—

Lily wrote Severus almost every day, and it was always about how "Tunie" wouldn't stop picking on her and how she wanted to hex her so bad and wished he was there.

A part of him felt a twinge of guilt that he wasn't there to keep her company as he always had been before, but a stirring in his gut whispered to him that she didn't write about how she missed him as much as she wanted someone to commiserate with.

Just when he started to feel sad, however, Hermione would be up to her antics again, sticking her tiny snout into his business, chewing on his fingers, and exposing her belly for rubs. Unlike most felines, she actually enjoyed having her belly rubbed. It was never a trap.

Even if she mock mauled his hand, she never once broke the skin.

And even when she was in human form, she'd casually lean up against him like he was her most favourite place in the world, sharing her time with him in whatever form.

Oddly, he never felt suffocated by her affectionate presence.

She always felt— so genuine.

He felt as though he didn't deserve such wonder.

But true wonder it was indeed, and it seemed quite firmly embedded in his life. So, perhaps he did, in fact, deserve it even if he couldn't for the life of him figure out _why_.

To go "home" back to Cokeworth would just give his father more reason to take things out on his hide— or his mum's. And most of the violence he witnessed was all because of him.

"_He's a bloody freak! I married a freak! You gave birth to a freak!"_

No, he reasoned, returning home would be a farce. There would be no welcome waiting for him at Spinner's End, only the hatred of a man who blamed his wife for giving birth to his hated freak of a son.

He had long since given up on appeasing his father or trying to save his mum.

They had both chosen each other, and they had both chosen to live with each other in torment rather than leave the other.

Once, his only respite from his family had been afternoons spent with Lily. She was always so eager to learn about the magical world when he had been her only window to a land where dragons and unicorns were _real_.

But from the very moment she had been Sorted into Gryffindor, Lily had changed the nature of their relationship. He was no longer the mentor, but neither were they equals. Popularity measured worth. How many people agreed with you made you right.

He was the lowest of the low in the social popularity game.

He was not attractive.

He was not of a wealthy pureblood family as far as anyone knew, and it wasn't as if the Prince family was truly aware (or cared) of their traitorous daughter's elopement with a Muggle man.

His financial well-being was kept as hidden as any sort of attractiveness on his part, but he found comfort in his master's kind yet firm guidance and his fellow apprentice and friend.

He didn't mind how she fixated on his buttons, trying to pry them off with her teeth when they were extra shiny and squirrel them away. He chided her for nicking loose jewelry, shiny quills, and shiny sweet tins from the students, and had her (begrudgingly) put them in the lost and found box so they could be returned to the students who lost them.

He wasn't sure where all her hidden stashes were or even what was in them all, but she did, at least, pile up things for him to inspect before whisking them off to places unknown.

Well, one place wasn't as unknown even if it was more intimidating—

They'd been summoned for tea at the Ministry, and Madam Pomfrey had introduced them both to Master Healer Manfred Morgan— an intimidating beast of a healer in the literal sense. His breath healed as a dragon's would harm, and he looked like the snarling creatures from ancient Mayan ruins.

Hermione had zipped over to greet the dragonbat with an excited embrace (much to Snape's initial horror) wrapping her arms around the creature's thick neck as she completely ignored the jagged teeth and ferocious snarl.

Master Morgan seemed to chuckle as he wrapped a wing around the young witch, and he seemed to know that Hermione was more than she appeared. That was confirmed when she popped into dragon form and perch-clung to his shoulder and let out a string of happy warbling croons that might have been language compressed into the span of a few seconds.

"So, you're the one vexing our poor Amelia," the elder Healer chuckled, startling Snape who hadn't expected English to come out of that mouth at all. "I am glad to see you are not just a hallucination the poor woman has started to swear you were."

Hermione slumped a little, drooping her wings and head, but then she was ultimately charmed by Master Morgan's ear decorative wraps and his healer's circlet.

"Poppy, you evil woman," Master Morgan said. "Keeping such a prize in two apprentices so far from us."

Snape blinked. They'd heard of them?

Pomfrey poured tea into cups and a drinking bowel with a sly smile. "Come now, Manfred. Someone has to keep you guessing."

"I've heard great things of you, Mr Snape," Manfred said. "Both you and Hermione have been the pride of the Healer's guild. Whether you realise it or not."

Snape's eyes widened.

"Your potions work has been quite impressive so far, and Miss Granger's work in applied and touch-healing as been equally exciting to see. I am very glad to see that none of that had gone to your heads. Such a thing would be a pitty." Morgan said.

Hermione crooned happily, rubbing up against the dragonbat's warm ear and muzzle, playfully chew-tugging on the irresistible ear-toy.

Morgan's mouth snapped over the fey dragon with a click, trapping the little creature between his teeth.

Hermione made a sad sound of mischief denied.

Manfred chuckled, releasing her, and she zipped around his muzzle and body before returning to Snape, transforming into a delicate-looking orchid adorning his apprentice circlet.

Severus eyed the flower on his circlet with suspicion and a weary sigh.

Master Morgan chuckled. "Come, my dear Poppy. Let us discuss your lesson plans for the upcoming term, then let the children enjoy their summer with you."

Poppy nodded and saluted him with her teacup.

It was then and only then that Severus realised that Master Morgan had been and was _still _Poppy Pomfrey's master, and the bonds between master and apprentice were every bit as lifelong as he had been told.

* * *

"Look, Sirius, it's Snivellus."

"Are you in twubble, Snivelly?"

The all-too-familiar voices of the two hecklers made the hair rise up on the back of Snape's neck.

"This is a _public _garden," Severus said coolly, turning a page in his book. Three years of harassment by the Gryffindor gang hadn't helped his instinctive tensing, but he was surprised that he hadn't gone straight for his wand.

Hermione wouldn't like it much if he hexed them first. Finish it, well, she wasn't the type to deny him the _final _blow—

He smiled at the thought. Hermione was exceedingly kind-hearted, but she was always fair. She believed in him, and for that, he would do anything he could to not disappoint her. He wasn't so naive to think he'd always succeed, but would try to be the person she believed in. She made him believe he was capable of being something far better than he had believed in himself.

"I think Snivellus got himself banished to the Ministry, mate," Potter snorted rudely with a sneer you could practically hear in his voice.

"We still owe you a bit of payback, Snivellus," Black said with a sniff.

"I haven't done anything to you," Snape replied, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"Consider this interest, if you will, on what you deserved."

"And still do."

"We know you like to play with Dark curses and hexes."

"That makes you fair game."

"What's fair is fair, after all."

"So true, mate. So true."

"_Mammae emacuerunt!"_

Snape tumbled off the bench he was sitting on, his hands clutching at his pained gonads, tears streaming from his eyes at the sudden agony.

The two Gryffindor boys laughed raucously in their enjoyment of his pain. "Good one, Sirius!"

"_**Et versa reflectunt!" **_Hermione's furious voice rang out. "_**Duplicatum!**_"

Severus felt the pain between his legs ease as…

"_**AHHHHHHHH!"**_ the boys cried in horror as their trousers suddenly burst open and their penises and scrotum enlarged exponentially to the point where they fell flat on their stomachs— right on top of their highly erect, protesting, engorged and enlarged phalluses. They screamed even louder as they sprained something that wasn't meant to be bent quite _that _way.

Snape felt Hermione's hand enclosing his as she helped pull him up. She said nothing to him. Her gaze did not linger on his tears, nor did she seem to focus on his loss of dignity. She just stood by him, silently supporting him.

"Can't even defend yourself," Potter gasped at him but the words got projected into the dirt of the arboretum. "Had to have a girl protect you."

"You attack someone in a peaceful public park, and you have the gall to accuse them of being unable to protect _**themselves**_," Hermione seethed. Her hair was rising like serpents around her head—"These grounds are warded to record every single spell cast and the caster of said spells within its space. What, pray tell, do you think they will find? Like maybe how you managed to get in here without being seen at no less than three checkpoints?"

The small witch seemed larger than life, her magic flaring around like a solar flare.

"Peace be upon you, witchling," a low voice rumbled, and Severus and Hermione saw a man of shorter but proud and broad-shouldered stature walking past the third checkpoint with an armed squad of Aurors at his side. "I, Orion Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, seek forgiveness for the unsavoury actions of my elder son, who has clearly forgotten all of the decorum and manners which his mother and I have attempted to instill in him since birth."

Hermione's fury seemed to slowly abate, or at least her hair stopped fighting to gain sentience and choke whoever and whatever it could reach.

Severus' own indignation of being taken down even temporarily faded with the demonstration of smouldering fury turned into fiery reality on his behalf. Hermione could have done many, many things, but she had chosen to face the danger as a human witch, standing at his side in all her brilliant, scary glory.

The Aurors took the wands from the two lying moaning on the ground as another came up to Severus and Hermione.

"Wands, please," he said. "Protocol, you understand, Apprentice Granger, Apprentice Snape."

Hermione handed hers over with a grim expression even as Severus pulled his out from an inner pocket to give to the Auror.

"Thank you," the Auror said politely.

Severus placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and silently gestured to a nearby bench with his chin. She took in a deep breath and nodded, sitting down with him.

The Aurors cast a few spells on the wands as the others carefully examined the wards around the arboretum.

Hermione scooched over to snuggle closer to Snape, leaning on him for comfort after having wiped the floor with Potter and Black. Severus' eyes widened but he smiled.

Hermione was such a contradiction. Fierce and fiery but shy— confident and yet seeking comfort.

"They used a shrivelling curse, Lord Black," the head of the Auror group stated. "Apprentice Granger used a reflective reversal and amplification spell. The original curse was aimed at Apprentice Snape's, erm, privates, sir. When it was reflected and amplified in reverse, it, uh— ahem—"

Orion Black's eyes flitted down to see his son and his son's best mate's enlarged predicament with a tightening of his jaw. "I believe I can piece together the rest on my own, Auror Matthews."

Another man, his black hair almost completely silver with age, stormed into the Arboretum with two more Aurors hot on his heels.

"_**Mr Potter! Please!"**_

The elder Potter yanked his son up by the collar and shoved his hand into the boy's pockets. He pulled out a shimmering cloth and fingered a small, pearlescent button on the clasp. "Did you think I would not realise that you stole my father's cloak, boy? That I could not track you? Do you think me an old fool?"

Potter's inflated bits hung on display in front of him, shrivelling slightly under his father's wrath but still exceedingly large— far too large to ignore by anyone with functioning eyes… even in the next room over.

"Sir, what shall we do with them?" one of the younger Aurors asked.

Auror Matthews narrowed his eyes.

"Charge them both with theft," Fleamont Potter demanded.

"And assault as well," Orion Black said, his teeth practically bared.

"And indecent exposure!" a little old witch cried from the next room.

Auror Savage looked like he was trying really, really hard not to laugh himself silly.

Auror Proudfoot was not succeeding at _all_.

"Get these two idiots the hell out of my Arboretum," Amelia Bones roared as she seemed to float over the ground in her fury. "I want tracking bracelets placed on their ankles and suppression of any and all the magic that isn't part of the school curriculum on the Hogwarts grounds! I want them spitting rose petals and farting rainbow unicorns by the time they leave here! Change these bloody wards to _**incinerate **_any trespasser foolish enough to attempt to breach our security!"

"Ma'am!"

The Aurors scrambled like ants fleeing from a magnifying glass on a bright sunny day.

"Lady Bones," Orion said, bowing politely at the waist.

"Lord Black," Amelia said, giving him a swift curtsey. "How in Merlin's name were those two able to get past three separate checkpoints to get into this place?"

The elder Potter patriarch scowled in response. "I fear that is a story for the charges against my own son for stealing our family relic for his own selfish use."

"But father! I'm your _**son!"**_

Fleamont Potter shot him a quelling look. "Yes, and you think that makes you entitled to take something without asking to use for your malicious little pranks and skullduggery? Did you even _think _of how crushed your mum would be? Do you think because you grew up with every possible opportunity that you could just take whatever you want without any repercussions?"

Snape felt Hermione snuggle a little closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around her protectively as the adults took down two of the four menaces to his life peg by peg even as little old witches fainted as they walked by, having gotten an eyeful their "indecent exposure."

Justice was _sweet_.

* * *

Hermione yawned squeakily from atop the pile of treasure on top of Amelia's desk— all the remained of the filled-to-the-brim room of shiny things left to be sorted. As it turned out, as she was unable to stop herself from the collecting of shiny (literally or magically) items, she _did _tend to focus on the lost and neglected rather than things that were blatantly cared for and used.

Amelia had started her own version of a Room of Lost Things, allowing Hermione to hoard to her heart's content as long as the little dragonet allowed Auror-escorted people to come reclaim that which was truly theirs. Some people had been so happy to find their long lost whatever from great, great aunt Whoever, that they didn't even question how it had gotten into a lost and found collection.

Many people thought things just showed up in the room and begged Amelia to reveal how she enchanted it, but Amelia kept her lips sealed.

Hermione, in a fastidious and almost obsessively organised manner amidst the chaos, kept books and tomes in one area alphabetically sorted by author, tools in another, artefacts in another sorted from darkest grey to lightest grey, coins sorted by colour and weight, and gems by size and colour. She did indulge in a bit of tummy-sliding down the piles of coins and gems from time to time, but Amelia found that even more amusing because Hermione go back to sorting them shortly after, unable to help herself.

Already, Hermione had single-handedly helped the DoM solve their most pressing financial issues with just a sneeze, guaranteeing her a place of honour amongst those in the know in the DoM. It wasn't that she needed the extra cred, as it were. Both Hermione and Severus had already made a reputation for themselves as being studious and highly talented in the fields of healing and potions. Hermione seemed to enjoy touch healing and energy field work as well as the art of Arithmancy, and Severus preferred the subtle art of potion-making and defence against the Dark arts. Together, they would make quite a formidable team.

Hermione yawned again and—

_**POP!**_

There were suddenly two identical writing quills on her desk.

A knock startled Amelia shortly after.

"You free, boss?"

Amelia eyed the second quill. "Come in."

As the door opened—

_**FIP!**_

The second quill disappeared as one of the wizards from accounting stumbled in. "Oh! I seem to have tripped over my own feet! So sorry, ma'am!"

Amelia tried not to smirk too obviously. "Not a problem, Jeffries. Have a seat."

* * *

Years passed and the dreaded rise of a certain Dark Lord ended with the sputtering of helium from a balloon when the arrogant Voldemort walked straight into a fire-fight thinking himself immortal.

The Daily Prophet spewed incredulously for weeks upon months about how "he just walked in there and _dared _them to kill him!"

And the Aurors, glad to be of assistance, did precisely that.

The Horcruxes were destroyed shortly after in a blazing Fiendfyre of "covering all the bases."

The Death Eaters, who had been of the mistaken belief that their Dark Lord had a grand master plan, apparently hadn't bothered to make any plans of their own.

They went down as fast (if not faster) than their beloved lord.

The majority of the pureblood children in Slytherin were ultimately either orphaned and ostracised for having parents "stupid enough" to put their lot in with a wizard who believed he was immortal and wasn't even a pureblood to boot.

The truth— hurt.

Suddenly, there were people like Dolores Umbridge, who had built a web of lies around her being a Pureblood to gain respect and power who were finding out that being Pureblood wasn't exactly the best idea. It put every move she made under a microscope, and that was something that those like her could simply not abide.

The woman ended up having a complete nervous breakdown in the middle of the Ministry atrium and getting into a raging wandfight of the most epic proportions— with a cloud of endangered bats she swore up and down were actually inhuman vampires.

Hours later, Umbridge found herself convicted of about a thousand counts of bat persecution from the Muggle law enforcement officials alone.

Oddly enough, no one stood in the way of the Muggle constables that came to arrest Dolores.

Even stranger, no one seemed to question how the Muggles even knew about it or how they found her to arrest her—

Or how she happened to accidentally lose her wand that day—

Or how she had the strange bracelet on her ankle that no one could take off or break or otherwise remove—

No, Dolores Umbridge's climb to power had most _definitely _hit a wall.

A very strong, reinforced, well-padded, magically warded, bat-infested wall.

Suspicious trails of corruption within the Ministry regarding exactly where the money was going to and from places it shouldn't have entangled many people and even entire families, and some families were discovering they were firmly in the doghouse with doors closing all around them for having foolishly chosen to support a Dark Lord.

And while some families truly seemed to suffer from this discovery, there were those such as Lucius Malfoy that seemed all too happy to watch his father being interrogated and forced to imbibe Veritaserum.

There was that small matter of Abraxas Malfoy having forced his son to take a Dark Mark to the Dark Lord to "prove he was a man" while he himself remained Mark-free.

Lucius Malfoy was now the youngest full heir of the Malfoy fortunes as his father, Abraxas, was summarily stripped of his title and sent to Azkaban. The list of what he was charged with was sealed and not released for public consumption. As a Wizengamot spokesperson put it, "Some things are far too heinous and unspeakable to be reported in _any _public venue."

Severus and Hermione didn't learn what those unspeakable things were until now, in their seventh year at Hogwarts and on the cusp of their completed masteries as Potion Master and Master Healer, the blindingly light-haired Lucius and his wife Narcissa, made a special trip to the Hogwarts infirmary to petition Madam Pomfrey to allow her apprentices to take on their case.

Apparently, Abraxas had done something so terrible, so hideous to the minds of the Wizarding World that no one wanted to talk about it, let alone read of it: he had repeatedly used the _Cruciatus _curse on his pregnant daughter-in-law to induce a miscarriage and then made use of the foetus of his unborn granddaughter in ways that were far too horrifying for any normal person to contemplate.

Not until he had been sentenced to Azkaban for the remainder of his days did Lucius and Narcissa dare to contemplate starting a family again. Sadly, the curse damage done to Narcissa's reproductive system would make that a near-impossibility and so the young couple had come to Hogwarts basically seeking a miracle in potion form.

It was more than a small challenge.

It was clear enough that the twisted reason Abraxas had for torturing Narcissa was to bring his defiant son to heel—

As for why he would endanger his own future heir… the details of that, however, remained so traumatic for them that it sent Lucius into a fit of the shakes and Narcissa into panicked whimpering with her lovely blue eyes filled with terror. Master Morgan, when consulted, believed the unlawful and horrid deed was done to provide the rising Dark Lord an ingredient for forbidden potion— the kind of think one did with one's enemies to benefit your own family back when the Dark Ages were well and truly Dark.

Hermione believed that Narcissa's and Lucius's emotional trauma needed to be healed before they could even consider conception remedies, and that was something fit more for Madam Pomfrey than herself. Severus had never been one for saying the right thing to comfort anyone, and Hermione was more of a solve problem by inserting proper tool into appropriate slot or finishing a complex equation kind of witch. Neither of them were therapeutic communication specialists, and Master Morgan had rubbed off them a little too much for that to change.

So, Madam Pomfrey covered the therapeutic communication and therapy, Severus worked on a potion to ease the painful muscle and nerve damage, and Hermione worked on healing the painful knots, trigger points, and scars that surrounded Narcissa's abdomen as well as various other places.

Lucius, too, had multiple places where his bones had been broken and healed without the use of Skele-grow or magic, multiple muscles and ligaments had been torn and twisted, and there was even scarring on his head where his hair had been forcibly grabbed so hard that it had been pulled out by the roots.

Dumbledore had had to be convinced, of course, into allowing two people who weren't students or staff to become regular visitors to the school infirmary, but perhaps he had hoped to garner some better public opinion for the school in permitting the project to proceed.

It seemed to place the Malfoy family in a slightly better light, as well, at least for Lucius and had both been unwilling victims in a war, and no matter what the public may have thought about purebloods in general, the microscope they had been put under subsequently had proven unequivocally that they had been tortured and forced to endure the kind of duress that no one wanted to hear about let alone confirm that it had actually happened.

As if the horrifying degree of sheer physical violence itself hadn't been more than enough in itself.

Severus and Hermione found themselves content with their lot in life, provided they were able to be close to each other. That, however, was rarely challenged thanks to their superb track record in working together. Those that knew them rarely ever saw them apart. The only other person who seemed to want to spend time with "scary Snape" was one Lily Evans.

The only problem with spending time with Lily was that the red-headed witch never bothered to even _try _to get on with Hermione, and Hermione was not one to stick around where she clearly wasn't wanted.

Perhaps, Snape mused, it was because Lily had known him for longer, and that caused a bit of a fuss. Did she feel somehow possessive of him because of it? Honestly, he had _no _idea what she was on about.. He couldn't quite understand how a person with so many friends could be weirdly possessive over him. After all, it wasn't as if Lily wanted to date him.

So, after spending an afternoon studying with Lily, Severus would trek out into the woods and coax the sulking fey dragon out of one of her notoriously well-stuffed loot stashing places or Floo back to the DoM and lure her out of one of the DoM's Room of Stashed Things— aka Master Manfred Morgan's quarters or one of Amelia's "safe rooms."

Hermione was, he had to admit, never mad at him for long. She always returned to snuggle into his arms and commandeer his pillow with equal zeal, but as a human witch—

It was always harder to get her to come out of her shell when she was human. Again, he wondered if it was because he was a wizard and she was a witch and there was some odd loss in translation that would never quite make itself known.

There was a lot of talk of lifelong relationships at Hogwarts, amongst the seventh years especially. Many people were pairing up, some more healthy than others, but Severus wasn't exactly looking.

He admitted, at least to himself, that if he were to even _imagine _sharing a lifelong commitment of marriage with Lily Evans, his horrified brain immediately tried to jump off the nearest cliff. Even contemplating a life without Hermione in it made his heart beat terribly fast as a swift feeling of dread and anguish simmered and roiled in his stomach.

He wondered precisely when it had all changed.

Lily had once been his rising sun and moon— his ultimate ideal of magic, love, and beauty, even as a child. Even without her older and more refined physical beauty as a witch, she had held his fascination. But where Lily tendered her regard based on what she desired and received from those around her, Hermione wanted only her books, learning, along with his respect companionship—

Well, and shiny things, of course.

Even in that, she and Lily were as different as could be.

Lily's chasing of the ultimate shiny was about a sign of wealth and prestige— something she had never truly had when sharing space with Petunia. Hermione's idea of shiny was quite literal, as in a foil sweet wrapper, a bit of tinsel, a polished beaker, stirring rod, a gleaming acorn, or a decorative tea tin.

It was the irony of ironies that Hermione sneezed out riches that would make the likes of most purebloods sob with envy, but she really couldn't be bothered to do more than slide down the massive heaps of galleons on her belly with joyous abandon.

What Amelia didn't know was that Hermione's obsessive organisation skills seemed to be limited to the DoM itself and the Hogwarts bookshelves. In the privacy of her own vaults, Hermione would be utterly disorganised like it was a guilty pleasure, being far more inclined to enjoy belly surfing down piles of coins and gems rather than bothering to sort and alphabetise it all. Severus blamed it on her need for approval— something she couldn't quite quell.

At least when they were together, she was able to relax a little.

So, too, did he, if he were honest.

Hogwarts in general wasn't a very relaxing place, but when they were together, it was them against the world. They had each other and their master, and the DoM, and that was perfectly fine.

Hermione peered over the cauldron to look at what he was doing. She cast her hand over it, a flow of Arithmancy swirling about her fingers and into the mix, combining with his brewing in synchronisation. While her touch healing remained a strong talent, her Arithmancy was equally strong due to her passion for it.

Her hair, which he swore was sentient, seemed to slither across his face, pulling him closer. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of her— the mixture of herbs from their brewing, the hint of forests, parchment, and ink.

The scent of her was intoxicating, and a shiver ran down his back.

They'd always been so focused on their work.

The war.

Defending themselves against his sworn enemies—

For the first, real moment, he felt the call of her power mixed with the scent of his Amortentia.

He winced, unsure, his hands weaving into her sentient curls.

He cupped her face, his lips parted in a whispered pant as desire gallivanted in his gut like a wild thing. "Hermione," he breathed her name.

His lips dragged across her temple as he looked into her eyes.

Their magic seemed to flare, sending tendrils to weave into the other.

Why had it never done this before? He thought.

He was staring at her lips, drawn to them. He bowed his head to capture them even as she whispered his name, her hands reaching to weave into his hair and draw him down into what would be their first kiss—

"Sev, it's time to study!" Lily's voice rang out in the next room. "Where are you?"

Mortified, Hermione's face paled completely.

PFFFT!

The fey dragon was gone, zipping out of the window and escaping into the evening darkness.

Severus stiffened, a strange sort of pain in his chest as she left even as Lily saundered in, her arms laden with study books. Even as a part of him realised Lily had saved them from being caught in a compromising position in the middle of the infirmary laboratory, a part of him remained in the strange agony with his first realisation of true desire for a witch denied—

* * *

Severus wasn't sure if Lily was intentionally trying to be a pain in his arse or literally had the worst possible timing.

Was it possible to have both at the same time?

Perhaps, looking back, he'd been oblivious to some other element.

When Lily had found out that he'd already taken his N.E.W.T.s and was actually graduating from his mastery, she'd made a point to study even harder with him, and that—

That was the only thing that caused Hermione to be scarce.

Hermione would dive into her healer duties, working with Lucius and Narcissa, or helping students with broken limbs or other such physical damage.

All of it was perfectly normal for a healer of her calibre, but—

He couldn't help but notice how much happier Lily was around him and how the fey dragon just slinked off into the Nether, away from sight and away from him.

Their brewing sessions were always intimate— close both physically and magically. It had always been so, but with the realisation of desire to be even closer with the fey dragon-witch, the parting was utterly maddening.

Hermione had always been quite generous with her touch and warmth, and while that hadn't changed exactly, he couldn't help but feel like he wanted more— that she was holding back.

Meanwhile—

Lily seemed to be having a relapse back to when they were little kids— touching him, taking his wrist, brushing his fingers with hers.

But his magic didn't respond to her like it did for Hermione.

Her hair didn't try to draw him near like the tendrils of a tentacula.

Her warmth didn't linger upon his skin like the memory of a hug.

Yet, lately, it was like she was _trying _to be there for him, and that was rather mind-boggling.

"Severus," Hermione's voice broke him out of his musings with a blink.

"Hermione," he replied, revelling in the sound of her saying his name. His full name, not some shortened nickname meant to be cute or easier to say. Severus was the name of the Roman he was named for— something to be proud of.

"_You should be proud of your name, Severus," Hermione had told him. "It's the name of Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax, the Roman emperor." _

"_He started a reign of Roman despotism," Severus said, frowning slightly._

"_He changed an entire world," Hermione pointed out. "We may not approve of the end result, but the feat itself was quite impressive, just as the Roman Empire was, even if it was oppressive and cruel, it was also undeniably effective."_

"_I don't want to be a despot," Severus commented wryly._

_Hermione laughed. "Don't be, but you can be a force to be reckoned with. What you do with it is up to you." _

Severus admired his view of Hermione, the sunlight in her hair creating a glorious halo about her heart-shaped face. He could see wild magic sparkling around her tendrils— hear the soft tinkle of distant chimes.

"Yes?" he answered her inquiry.

"I—" Hermione flushed slightly. "It's Hogsmeade weekend. I was thinking—"

"Sev! There you are!" Lily cried as she rushed in, taking his hands. "Come down to Hogsmeade with me, won't you? They're having a winter festival!"

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Severus on the cheek.

Lily looked at Hermione. "You could come with us," she added.

Hermione looked at how Lily's arm was looped around Snape's, her hand possessively touching his hand. She looked down and stepped away. "You go on ahead," she said quietly.

"Hermione—" Severus said, reaching for her.

Hermione shrank away, her eyes flicking to Lily and saw her confident, possessive expression.

"I— have work to do." Hermione slipped away in a swish of her robes.

Severus only barely felt Lily dragging him off as he watched the place Hermione had disappeared with confused turmoil burbling in his stomach.

* * *

Snape found himself restless the entire Hogsmeade trip. While Lily was his friend, she had never really been interested in his life as much as her social circles. It was curious and strange that she was making a point to draw him into things in their seventh year— outside of studying, anyway. While Lily wasn't exactly horrible in Potions, she preferred charms, and Severus found charms to be a lot of excessive wand-waving that annoyed him with the flourish and poise. Lily always insisted on testing her spells on him as her study partner, and her most favourite charms were, as always, appearance related.

There was a time, he realised, he encouraged such behaviour by never complaining when she botched things up— back when she was the only friend he had. By the time it had really started to annoy him, the few times he did she always told him "well, you never complained about it before, so stop fussing."

Hermione would always set things right later: fixing his hair, his skin, his nose and even his teeth from various adjusting spells. At least, he reasoned, Lily didn't screw with his spine or something like his voice.

Hermione said she loved his voice, odd as that was to him. She always had. Reading aloud to the dragonet had been a habit, and that had carried over even when she was in human form.

Strangely, Lily kept watching him whenever he looked at things for himself, perhaps expecting to just snap it up and pay for it on the spot, but Severus and Hermione had always been careful not to spend outside their means as apprentices, despite their wealth. They never wanted the extra attention. Poppy provided as their master, and they got quite a bit from the DoM working on side potions and healing. It was enough to be quite comfortable without flaunting around like one of the pureblood families with excess conspicuous consumption.

He figured that was what Potter and Black did to keep people interested in them even when they were carting their bits around in front of them in a wheelbarrow. Potter, strangely enough, seemed to have learned something out of it, and with his remorse and repentance, his enlarged embarrassment shrank. He was able to return to classes under a new leaf— not that Severus and he wanted to be friends or anything. He doubted that would ever happen.

Sirius, on the other hand, was about as remorseful as a rabid dog, and sometimes or most of the time, his attitude was similar. He was flooed to Mungo's every weekend to be treated, but every Monday he would return, just as cursed. Poppy said the healers there said the curse was tied the original intent.

They had wanted the curse to last until Snape "became a decent bloke" which was to say "never" in their minds. Thus, when Hermione reflected it back on them, their cure was tied to "becoming a decent bloke." Potter had apparently straightened out his priorities by focusing on his studies and put an end to the ceaseless pranking. Black— not so much.

He wondered how Regulus ended up as such a decent sort when his brother turned out to be such a wanker. After meeting Orion Black, it was obvious the Lord of the House of Black was anything but rude and horrible like Sirius. It was boggling. Then again, he'd never met the mum, either. Who knew what horrors could lay there like Snape's own father stained his childhood.

Severus pulled the wrapped book he had purchased from the bookstore close to him. He knew Hermione had been looking forward to getting it, but time and studies had kept her from going— an odd concept for a fey dragon who could poof to places faster and quieter than a Apparate.

If anything, the outing had proven to Severus that he'd really rather have had Hermione with him, but at least he'd gotten her something he knew she wanted. Lily had boggled at why he had wanted a book on in depth dental magic, but other than wanting to look in the book to see if there was anything about shining teeth, she lost interest in it.

When he returned to the infirmary, Hermione had already done the evening chores and left the evening mediwitches to watch over the patients that remained— something that hadn't existed until Hermione research on evidence-based practice on the dangers of relying on only one healer for an entire school as being dangerous should Poppy ever have to take a day off for her own illness or just need a mental break—

Things were looking quite good for Hogwarts when it came for medical treatment, and the Board of Governors had caved under the weight of Hermione's mountain of evidence, arguments, Arithmancy, and inescapable logic.

They also wanted Hermione on board after she gained her mastery, and they weren't above using Severus by offering him a position in Potions just to keep them both. Then again, so, too, did the DoM, St Mungos, and quite a few other magical hospitals. So did the goblins, and the goblins were willing to provide an ample apothecary, stocks, and accommodations within Gringotts proper— something utterly unheard of for the majority of the Wizarding World.

After all the drama that happened in Hogwarts, looking elsewhere was seemingly like a more logical choice to start after their masteries, but there was also the swirl of panic in his stomach at the thought that Hermione would take a job where far and away— away from him.

The thought of Lily moving on with her life hadn't bothered him since Hermione had _literally _fallen out of the air and landed on him in the midst of his most humiliatingly exposed, tortured moment.

He hadn't felt alone since then, but thinking about Hermione travelling far and away filled him with dread.

As he walked into their shared sitting room, he found practically buried in her mastery paperwork, final essay scrolls, fee papers, and applications. Hermione herself was asleep, her face plastered upon the writing desk with her hair threatening to conquer England by sending tendrils out in every direction.

His expression softened. He placed the book on the desk beside her project, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, love, you're going to end up with a kink in your neck."

Hermione stirred groggily, rubbing her neck absently. "Mmmfff…. Sevmmffrus."

Snape's eyebrow cocked. "Bedtime for you, miss."

Hermione lay her head down on the book he had brought, fluffed it, and closed her eyes. After a moment, her eyes opened and she startled, her eyes going across the cover. She looked up at him soundlessly, her eyes very wide.

"For you," he said.

She touched the book reverently, beaming in delight as she opened the cover. The look on her face made his chest seize painfully in a strange sort of ecstasy. So often had she been there for him, and he wanted her to know he would be there for her for long after Hogwarts— for _life_.

She stood, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his chest. Without even looking inside, her joy was palpable.

"You thought about me," she whispered.

"Always," he promised her.

The feel of her pressed against him was a delicious agony. The scent of her was so perfect, like Amortentia itself. Her tender warmth spread all over him and he didn't want the moment to ever end. His lips pressed against her temple, and he tilted her head up to look her in the face.

"Hermione, will you at least consider me? As a suitor? I cannot even begin to imagine my life without you in it."

Hermione's lip quivered as she touched his face. "You'd— want me?" Her voice was shaky, unsure.

"There had been no one else," he whispered.

Hermione gently traced his lips with her fingers. A shiver of powerful magic passed between them. "But— then you could end up like me. Impure. Not human."

He held her even more tightly against him. "If undergoing a significant physical change is what I must do to be with you, Hermione, I would gladly embrace it, just as I would you. If any were to not accept you for who you are, then I would not accept them either. We could make a wonderful life wherever we want to. With you, it would not matter where."

She looked at him with such hope; he never, ever wanted to disappoint her.

"I _do _want to be with you," she said quietly, as if admitting it would blow him away on the wind.

He dipped his head to capture her mouth in what might have started out as a tentative, even shy kiss, but Hermione's gasp of pleasure and the tightening of her arms around him stoked the blazing fire he hadn't ever realised had been threatening to overcome him.

They staggered together, struggling to stand under the sheer force of their combined desire, their magic flaring brightly in response to their mutual need.

Severus barely managed to scoop up his witch in his arms, dragging her off to his bedroom as her hands sought to touch every single inch of him, even as he struggled to release them both from the confines of their Merlin-damned clothes.

With a growl of pure frustration, his magic flared, and their clothes flew off them in random directions. Hermione gave a short, draconic squeak, but it turned into an enticing moan of his name as he affixed himself to her neck and pressed feverish kisses in a trail across her skin, intense suction pulling her skin between his teeth as he pressed the imprint of his teeth upon her body.

Instinct drove him to touch every part of her, kiss every part of her, and listen to what caused her breath to hitch, her grip to tighten, her moans to give away her pleasure.

Had they been paying attention to anything other than themselves, perhaps they might have noticed the ring of pretty glowing mushrooms that popped out along the floor in a ring around Snape's bed. Each shimmered and pulsed with magic as they released a cloud of particles that each seemed to breathe in without ever noticing.

Maybe, they might have even noticed that they now seemed to be in the middle of a primordial forest where the trees were as white as snow with purple-veined leaves and the sky was a smoky teal.

Maybe, but they didn't.

Perhaps, had they not been so engrossed in their own pleasurable discoveries in each other, they would have noticed two adult fey dragons looming in the forest with gleeful draconic grins on their faces or even the bushy-haired human-changeling with pointed doe ears, goat horns, and equinesque legs— all clapping and bouncing in sheer delight.

Perhaps.

Or maybe it was never theirs to notice but only to be with themselves at that moment in time as things far older than they paid witness to the age-old consummation that united the world of the fae with their often-fleeting mortal playground— a consummation that was nothing less than a frenzied week of completely oblivious, utterly joyous lovemaking .

It _might _have been the magick that sustained them without food or drink.

It _might _have been amidst the land of the fae.

Perhaps, it was the dramatic transformation that was taking place inside Snape's very soul and innate magic every time he and Hermione coupled, writhing in glorious ecstasy in each others' nearness.

Assuredly, he didn't even seem to notice anything but her as they entwined— the iridescent and obsidian fey dragons curled together in a ball of sublimely sated coital bliss.

No, whatever changes he embraced, he did so willingly and wholeheartedly, his faith and desire for the only one that truly mattered to him both tested and found that it exceeded expectations, and Hermione was not complaining.

Nope, not at _all_.

In fact, if the fey were truly hard-pressed to have their own children, Hermione's body seemed to have neglected to read the memo, as the tiny flutters of forming, fertilised eggs grew within her in clear defiance of the rules.

But all these things, neither Hermione nor Severus noticed, even as their cooling bodies remained entwined on Snape's bed as the fey-magic released them from the land of the fey— two shimmering silvery bands set with entwined opal and obsidian encircling their left ring fingers.

Bands in the shape of dragons curled around a treasured post-sneeze gem— deep from the heartland of the fey— a blessing from two ancient, fey dragon parents to their daughter and her chosen mate.

Hermione snuggled into the soothing warmth of her mate, oblivious to anything but his ever so tempting, all-encompassing masculine presence. Severus' arms pulled her close even in sleep as the last of the enchanted mushrooms sank back into the magical land from whence they came.

* * *

_**Mysterious Faerie Rings Pop Up All Over England! Wild Intoxicated Dancing and Revelry Ensues! Some Awaken With Donkey Heads; Others Wake Up Married!**_

_We're not quite sure what inspired the spontaneous eruption of magical fungus that popped up all over England last week, but we are only now able to recover enough to report on it. One week of utter madness held England in its grip, and absolutely no one was safe. St Mungos has since been flooded with newly pregnant witches, couples who didn't even start off the week as couples, and various enchantments that seem to have a preference for altering the head into something more animal and decidedly less human._

_Auror Alastor Moody reported to work to find Aurors Savage and Proudfoot dealing with a crazed witch with a giant beetle head stuck in a filing cabinet— a witch who turned out to be none other than Ms Rita Skeeter, the infamously controversial reporter-cum-gossipmonger from this very newspaper. Even more baffling, it seems Ms Skeeter is now married to none other than the equally shamed and stigmatised Dolores Umbridge, self-coined pureblood, liar, and former toady-on-the-rise at the Ministry._

_Interestingly, Ms Umbridge is apparently sporting a rather obnoxious braying ass head, as if her previous shame wasn't deep enough. Several of her former colleagues, who wish to remain anonymous, expressed their astonishment that Umbridge was "gifted" with an ass head rather than a toad's, admittedly much to this reporter's amusement._

_While the enchanted faerie rings seemed to have only induced dancing and fun for the minors in our society, all those of age who were caught in their magic were either blessed or cursed with marital magic, transformation, or something in between. _

_The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, has reportedly been inflicted with a rather stunning goat head with an impressively long white beard that any billy goat would surely envy._

_Those who were already married, at least so it seems, were left only with vague memories of week-long revelry and apparently highly-potent fertility. Lord Lucius and Lady Malfoy, for instance, are now expecting— triplets._

_While most of the chaos has turned out to be a blessing in disguise for the Wizarding World, at least in Britain, many are wondering when and if the animal heads will wear off._

_As with most ancient and primordial magic, all the healers at St Mungos seem to agree on one answer: we don't know._

"_It is extremely difficult to get through the main doors of the library with the head of a hippopotamus," Ministry Archivist Claudius Donner exclaimed to this reporter._

_The main archives of the Ministry as well as other departments have been under construction to accommodate the unexpected changes in its staff._

* * *

_**Time Passes**_

* * *

"Draco Severus, Lyra Hermione, and Carina Poppy, you will stop fidgeting this instant!" Narcissa snapped as she corralled her children at the train depot, wiped their faces, straightened their clothes, and then scowled at them to make sure they were looking acceptable.

"But mum!" they protested. "Ella, Tania, and Kalen are already on the train!"

"And they aren't going anywhere!" Narcissa tutted. "I'm quite sure they will have saved seats for you!"

"Having— problems?" Severus' voice drawled amusedly as he noted the fuss.

Narcissa let out a sigh. "Nothing holding them back a year or two won't fix."

The children gasped in horror, immediately going on their very best behaviour.

A lanky, black-haired child walked up with an enormous owl cage clutched in his arms, barely able to see where he was going. Hermione walked up behind him, an amused smile on her face.

"Dad! I found him! His name is Archimedes!"

"I don't see how you could possibly miss him. He's ruddy huge," Severus said, one eyebrow arching.

Hermione laughed. "Don't fuss, Severus. Foster simply wanted to make absolutely sure he had the right owl."

"Only because he _ate _all the other owls," Severus quipped.

Foster got a horrified look on his face.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "Your father is only joking, love."

Foster looked somewhat unsure but smiled anyway.

"Kiss your mum goodbye, my dear. Your brother and sisters are saving you a seat on the train." Hermione smiled at him.

The black-haired child set down the cage carefully and tackle-hugged his mum and kissed her cheek and then hugged his father in a slightly more conservative fashion. He placed the owl cage on his trolley and moved it up to where the attendants were taking them, helping the young boy carry his owl cage onto the train.

The seven steadfast friends plastered themselves against the window and waved to their parents before settling in the compartment.

"Eleven years old already," Lucius sighed, idly tapping his cane with his fingers. "Seems only just yesterday—"

Severus nodded. They both scowled together as they saw a scruffy black dog-headed wizard and a witch with a golden cocker spaniel head pushing their heathen spawn, ahem— _child_, towards the train. The child thankfully had a very human head, unlike her parents.

Nearby, a stag-headed wizard and witch with a red macaw's head herded a mop-haired boy into the train even as a gaggle of ginger-haired trouble-magnets pushed ahead of him as he said his goodbyes.

Somehow, the macaw-witch managed to screech instructions at the poor boy, and he hustled to obey, his small arms quite full of owl cage as a disgruntled-looking snowy owl hooted her displeasure at being tossed about like a sack of grain.

Lily hadn't really spoken much to Severus since her embarrassing transformation into a bird-witch and getting herself married off to Potter. Severus had a feeling that Lily could have done better for herself, but she could have also done far, far worse. She could have been married to Greyback, whose entire "pack" was transformed into a tribe of toothless puppy-headed folk.

Magic, apparently, did have a sense of justice as well as humour.

Lupin was fortunate enough to avoid that ignominious fate and ended up married to the rather pretty Mary McDonald, who had (perhaps during the one week of delirious dancing and shagging), also contracted lycanthropy. But, as if magic was looking out for them, on full moons they transformed into remarkably fluffy, sickeningly adorable, non-contagious, and playful border collies.

So was it really lycanthropy anymore? Or more like canidantropy?

Who knew?

Their kids apparently took mum and dad on moonlit walks at night, and no one was _ever _going to accuse the Lupin family of not loving each other— as odd as they might seem to outsiders.

They weren't nearly as odd as the Lovegood family, though. The young witchling, Luna, carried a floating jellyfish around on a leash like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Severus almost pitied the staff of Hogwarts in the coming years— the current one especially due to the week-long event his and Hermione's rather abrupt marriage had brought about. The train was packed to the gills and had extra cars added on to accommodate the current influx of students— something of a first for Hogwarts.

He and Hermione enjoyed their life shared between the DoM and Gringotts, patching up the wounded and running an apothecary that had people owling in orders from all over the world. Thanks to both the DoM and goblin discretion, that they were ever-unaging would never be an issue.

Both were no strangers to the fine art of keeping secrets.

Life was more than good, and the Dark Lord had faded into shamed obscurity as those who had brought him into power suffered other punishments.

Severus still wondered why the owner of the Hogshead Tavern burst into tears of laughter every time Albus walked by.

Maybe he found goats comical?

As the train pulled out, Severus crossed his arms over his chest, his robes billowing in the wind. Hermione waved to the children as they frantically waved to her and Narcissa. Oddly, Lucius looked ready to cry, but Severus wasn't about to bring that up. They'd become friends over the years, and he'd rather not be hexed to the face.

Regulus would have taken it for the joke it was, but he was far more even tempered than Lucius in the face of jest— well, of Severus' dry humour at least. Hell, Remus had laughed himself silly when Severus had sent him a gift-wrapped case of dog kibble for Christmas along with his and hers matching charmed flea collars.

Hermione chose just then to purr in his ear, and he immediately felt a shiver run down his spine as many others areas became pointedly interested. His wife was such a seductive little minx.

"The home shall be empty save for the two of _us_, my love," she whispered heatedly in his ear.

Lower things immediately twitched in eager contemplation of _that _idea.

He growled lowly, pulling his mate closer as he willed them away back home, their bodies Disapparating with a hurried _**crack**_.

"We should probably get home as well," Lucius said to Narcissa as the Snapes left.

"Hrm?" Narcissa said, watching as the train disappeared on the horizon.

"Severus and Hermione just left. The _last _time they were up to their shenanigans, we went from infertile to the parents of triplets."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "Do you really think their—" she eyedarted. "Ah, passion will remain that potent for the rest of us, my love?"

Lucius breathed on his wife's neck. "Mine certainly is, wife."

Narcissa let out a girlish squeal as Lucius' arm wrapped snugly around her waist and they too Disapparated with a _**crack**_.

* * *

_**British Baby Boom Revisited!**_

_A surge of new pregnancies are flooding the hospitals United Kingdom, magical and Muggle alike, as hordes of new couples and old have flooded in for prenatal checkups this month. Many seem to think this mirrors what happened twelve years ago, and the subsequent effects of the flood of children all entering the schooling system at once have set the nation ablaze with educational as well as health concerns._

_Hogwarts has been quite proactive in preparing for the oncoming onslaught ever since it learned of the remarkable surge of pregnancies the first time around, but only a month into the first year of Hogwarts' class of baby boomers, it remains to be seen just how effectively they have prepared._

_Already, many of your favorite Diagon Alley shoppes are rushing to offer everything from infant and children's clothing and toys to daycare services and rent-an-elf establishments._

_Incidentally, the Aurory would like us to remind everyone in advance that brawls and wandfights over house-elves will __**not **__be tolerated._

_To all those newly expecting, we offer you our most sincere congratulations!_

* * *

Severus pressed his nose into his wife's halo of sentient curls and took in a deep breath. She murmured softly in her sleep, cuddling closer to his warmth. They had joyfully chased each other across the skies, between the trees, and even through the halls of the DoM before finally settling into an actual bed, and their antics hadn't truly stopped save for work. They were hardly going to let Mungos go without their potions.

Hermione was, at the very least, insatiable for her mate's loving attentions, but it wasn't solely for his talent in bed (not that she was exactly complaining there either, mind!) Cuddling while reading in their extensive library, long leisurely walks, brewing together, debating potion ingredient efficacy, complaining about the dunderheads in the latest Potions Weekly, and all things inbetween filled their time together, and he couldn't help but feel eternally grateful for the chance he had been given. The beginning of his life may have been horrible indeed, but the memories no longer tormented him.

His long-time enemies had long since been punished. His life had gone from a study in shameful neglect to more than fair treatment. His wife was his best friend. They argued but never failed to make up, and loved each other all the more.

And some twelve years after their first clutch of children, he and Hermione had met a charming couple in Diagon Alley— a couple that seemed so utterly mundane and human but—

There was something oddly _familiar _about them.

Something close.

Hermione's face lit up with joy upon seeing them, and they had quickly engulfed her with hugs and kisses.

"There you see, Hazel? I told you she'd grow up right, our Hermione."

"Found your way back to us, I see." The man was chuckling.

Then and only then, he noticed the tufted points of ears almost hidden in their hair and the slight glint of fae magic in their eyes.

The two not-_quite_-humans looked upon Severus with knowing smiles. "You foster enough fae, and they start to rub off on you, my lad," the man said. "I'm Easton. Easton Granger. This is Hazel, my lovely wife. We've been doing this for many, many long years— but none were as surprising as our lovely Hermione. Real parents are in the magick-lands where the fae live— usually. But to those like us who have treated their kind well, we gain a few special gifts here and there."

Severus could only gape at them in utter astonishment. He had had _no _idea— and _still _didn't.

Hazel gave him a kiss on each cheek. "You take care of Hermione, my dear," she said with a smile. "She travelled a long way to set things right."

Hermione was hugging her "father" tight with a soft sigh of pure contentment escaping her lips.

"Mum! Mummy! There is a big old ginger half-Kneazle in the shoppe! His name is Crookshanks! Can I get him for school?" A young boy with crazy brown curls and bright brown eyes bounced up eagerly. He had his school uniform on, which meant there had been some items on the list that they had either forgotten or needed replacement so soon in the school year.

"Let's go get a look at him, son," Easton said, herding his child before him.

Hazel smiled. "That one is Alvin. He's ours. A hundred percent. We'd never had our own child before. Then, twelve years ago, it was like we had to _try_, and we did."

Hermione beamed, and Severus tried to hide his blush in his collar. Surely, they didn't know— hopefully. How embarrassing.

"I love you, Mum," Hermione said, exuding relief.

Hazel took Hermione and Severus into a hug. It was warm and welcoming. "I love you, too, Sweetie," she said, kissing her forehead. "Be sure to come home for Christmas dinner."

"Yes, Mum!" Hermione said automatically.

"It is good to see you again, Hermione, Severus," Hazel said with a genuine smile. "I need to catch up with Easton and Alvin before they buy up the entire pet shop. We came here to get a new cauldron after some boy named Seamus blew up our son's."

Hazel winked at them both and disappeared down the Alley street.

Severus stood in place, dumbfounded.

"What just happened here?" Severus murmured.

"You just met my parents," Hermione gushed, beaming. "Aren't they _wonderful_?"

"How did they know who I was?"

Hermione paused, frowning. "They met you before when you weren't my husband. When I was a child— like Alvin."

It was then that Severus remembered the stories Hermione used to tell him— stories he'd thought she'd made up as some hypothetical him: a man that hadn't ever had a proper friend—

About parents she didn't know if she'd ever see again—

About how glad she was to have found him again.

Again.

Full circle.

She really _had _fallen back in time and found him again.

She had saved him.

"I love you," he blurted out, unsure where it had come from, but feeling it deep in his very soul.

Hermione stood up on her tippy toes and kissed him on the nose. "I love you, too." She beamed at him so brightly that the very sun seemed dim by comparison. "Always."

"Always," he whispered, taking her into his arms and holding her tight.

Yes, that was right.

It would _always _be right— the two of them, together.

Fiip!

Two fey dragons happily zipped off into the Diagon Alley sunset, chasing each other as they darted to and fro like a pair of hummingbirds and off into the encroaching night sky.

"Ahh, there they go," Easton said contentedly to his wife, taking her into his arms.

"I'm so proud of her, love," Hazel said, getting a little weepy.

"Me too, my love. Me too."

"Mummy! Come look at the book I got from the free pile over at Flourish and Blotts!" Alvin cried, waving the book about proudly.

A glittering fey dragon curled up on the cover on a pile of shimmering gemstones. The title of the book was: _The Little Dragon That Could_.

"It's perfect, darling," Hazel said. "Let's get you back to that tall bearded man so you can get back to Hogwarts."

"Okay, Mum!" Alvin said, hugging them both while clutching his things— his book, a half-Kneazle, and the new cauldron.

"Mum?"

"Hrm?"

"Do you think fey dragons are real?"

Hazel and Easton smiled down at their son. "As real as real gets, love."

Alvin Granger beamed. He was ready to take on the world. One book at a time.

* * *

_**HEA—The End!**_

* * *

**A/N:** Happy Halloween, everyone! My favourite holiday of the whole year! I hope you enjoyed this little fey dragon adventure! Thank you for your patience. You never realise how busy you are until you try to have time for writing! My thanks to Dragon and the Rose for putting up with my utterly random-hour shenanigans!


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